Wild Horses
by happyinchintz72
Summary: A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together. - AU  but using as much canon as possible - 12 Chapters in Total plus a two part epilogue
1. From Blaine From Kurt

**Title:** Wild Horses (1/18)  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: ~7,000 / ?  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> AU (but using as much canon as possible)  
><strong><span>Rating:<span>** PG -13 - NC-17 (for individual chapters)  
><strong>Summary:<strong> A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together. 

**Author's Notes **-  
>I've ALWAYS wanted to write a story centred around letter writing and as I was reading rockinhamburger's (over at LJ) latest post of drabbles and her idea for a KurtBlaine penpal AU - I almost fell off my chair. So this is a thanks to her for being kind enough to let me take her idea and run with it. I got too excited that evening - see THIS post.  
>I'm going to provisonally say this will be 18 parts. It could be a LITTLE bit less or a LITTLE bit more. Nothing too much though. The chapters will be of similar lengths to be consistent. The first couple of Chapters will be a little slower but will be updated, come three weeks time, as often as possible.<br>This first Chapter is quite unusual and the rest won't be as formatted as this one. It'll flow more easily then :)

I really REALLY hope you enjoy it. Please please do let me know what you think. I'm so excited to write this story. I have it all mapped out and tons of ideas it's quite insane. It's going to be so lovely to get to be able to write this.

Finally, the title is taken from the song of the same name by Natasha Bedingfield. It's oddly one of my favourite songs - if you listen to the lyrics I think you'll understand why I used it for this story and these boys - listen here.

* * *

><p>His book bag hung lead-like over his shoulder as he walked, taking long and purposeful strides, down the corridor. It was a route he took every day and each time he made the trip, the enormity of the ceiling, the pretty patterns painted across the walls and the click of his shoes on the hard wood flooring still struck him just as much as the first time he'd stepped in the doorway.<p>

It had been a tough day, being the new kid, but with a warm press to the small of his back courtesy of his mother, he'd managed it. Just.

The drive home didn't take long. He was, again, used to the same trees and the same large looming house that stood out for the sheer fact that it housed a large and swirling stained glass window that glittered in the afternoon sun. He liked the familiarity of it all, the way it comforted him in a weird way. He wished he'd been able to harbour those feelings a few years ago – maybe it all would have been a little easier.

Now, he had his routine. It wasn't perfect but it worked and nothing appeared to be changing anytime soon so it was a resignation in itself. He sighed, letting his hands slip down the steering wheel to rest in their familiar position, his elbows slack and shoulders slumped.

Walking tall took its toll.

The drive was short. He switched off the engine and slid his bag back over his shoulder, frowning a little as it pulled at his shoulder. Maybe a few less rehearsals would have been kinder that afternoon, but Wes was a slaver driver if ever Blaine had met one. Rehearsals weren't so bad though, he thought with a soft smile, as he turned the door handle and slid inside.

His mother was home as usual and clearly she'd been busy. It was Friday afternoon and, like clockwork, the Anderson household buzzed with the promise of the evening ahead. For Blaine, it signalled the repetition of every nicety he could force and a smile so painted that he could mask it in seconds. It was practiced, rehearsed and truly difficult to remove once fixed.

"Darling, you're home early."

Blaine blinked back into the moment. "Hi Mom," he sighed, placing his bag at the foot of the stairs, "took the short cut."

Lillian Anderson busied herself with a bunch of roses at the entrance, preening and letting her long and manicured fingers daintily tamper with the paper thin petals. Blaine watched with a smile.

"So, how was school?" she asked, turning to catch Blaine's eye with a soft smile, "did you rehearse today?"

Leaning against the banister, Blaine nodded. "We have our set list for Sectionals mapped out nicely thanks to Wes. I'm singing solo on two numbers."

Lillian turned not before pushing the intricate glass vase a millimetre to the left. "Blaine, that's wonderful. Any numbers I'd know?"

"Mainly top forty but I can play them for you later, if you'd like?" he asked glancing up at her with a shrug. The feeling or promise seeped back in again, torturous and destined to be squashed in an instant.

"Oh honey, I'd love to but maybe tomorrow, I've got plenty to prepare." She patted his shoulder gently and guided him into the kitchen to the left. There it was - it always happened the same way.

"Who is it tonight?"

"A partner in a law firm that is hopefully going to take over your father's business. Henry Jackson from Jackson and Young." She was busy once more, her hands akin to mechanisms, so adept at this particular practice that it looked rehearsed.

Blaine took his spot at the kitchen counter and slid the stool closer. He always felt so young when he sat at the counter, half expecting his mother to rush forward to plant a kiss at his forehead and drop a cookie in front of him with a sing song smile – the way she used to. He watched her through the same eyes though, the eyes of a son with unwavering affection and an almost desperate longing to keep her close. Her perfume hung in the air always – it often clung to his clothes lightly so he could still smell her a little when he left the house.

She was an immaculate dresser; her clothes were designer but extremely simple and elegant.

It was a word he used often to describe her. She was slim so she pulled off the cuts of traditional looks well; her long dark curls either found their home pinned in an demure bun or fell loose but were expertly pinned at her ears to keep it tidy. Nothing about Lillian Anderson felt unconsidered. She was a picture of forward thinking.

He knew he got it from her – his inability to leave the house looking anything other than composed and preened – and, in a way, it was an admirable trait to possess. He'd look at magazines sometimes, eyes lingering on the more fashionable guys lounging on walls or stylishly posing against pillars with slight stubble and a sense of the 'put together'. They were what anyone would call 'sexy' and the look worked for them but he could never seem to put himself in their shoes. He couldn't be so fickle with himself, he couldn't throw on anything or put together clothes the way those people did. He stuck with what he knew and colours he could get away with. Nothing more, nothing less. If it worked, why change it?

"Blaine."

"Hi Dad."

It was never the same with William Anderson as it was with his mother.

Blaine watched him pass the room and plant a simple kiss on Lillian's cheek. She waited for it, expecting it, and smiled as she watched her husband leave the room for the lounge.

"Blaine, honey," she turned, her eyebrows raised, "would you set the table while I finish up here, please?"

Not one to argue, Blaine got up immediately. After a while, he'd learned that doing as he was told was so much easier.

He located the candle sticks quickly and ran his fingertips over the cool metal. They were so familiar to him. He tried, each week, to mix it up a little, placing them in a different pattern, the napkins in a new shape and he'd even tried a new centre piece for a special twist. Each time he'd watched his mother from the doorway smile slowly, her head tilting as she took in his handiwork but, in time, he watched as she busied herself in putting it back and sticking to what she knew.

As he finished up with the last knife, he caught a glimpse of Lillian, a goblet of wine in her hand, resting against the back of the couch above his father. She leaned down slightly to pass him the glass. Blaine shook his head with a bittersweet smile. His father's hand had moved a little too quickly, reaching before he even knew she was there.

The routine.

He could time it to absolute clock work.

He'd lie in bed sometimes and have the overwhelming need to just scramble the DVD collection or throw every cushion from the sofa on the floor just so that the house felt spontaneous – just for a second. They both appreciated his artistic streak, this he knew, but he never felt able to express it in the house. He'd keep that side of himself for the confines of his room and the walls of Dalton Academy.

His dreams were far from similar to theirs. He'd close his eyes and walk his way through the existence he'd created for himself. Watching Inception at David's house had been a dream, knowing that he'd make the perfect architect – he'd planned a multitude of houses, streets... lives for himself for the future that he felt so very at home in them. Each was a little different, possibly reflecting his mood, but they all had the same lived in feel, the same happy patterns and cool decor – understated but stylish. He'd cram boxes full of old records and he'd buy an old player from a market to indulge himself every now and then with the scratchy sound of forgotten times – songs about love and lives long gone would drift out as a soundtrack to his existence as he'd shave or even as he cooked. The couch would drown in cushions and blankets, each able to be tossed without care. The entrance would always be adored with a bunch of flowers; his mother's tradition would never fail and he liked the smell of fresh flowers. They'd be mixed and a crazy spree of colours and shapes though.

He'd fall into bed of an evening beside a stack of books – some philosophical, some non-fictional about travel and history but mostly novels.

These dreams were frequent. There never seemed to be anyone else in them though. Friends, yes, lovers, no. It wasn't as if he had any grand aspirations in that department if his past was anything to go by. He wished it, obviously, but it never seemed to work out and he wasn't good at it all so the effort felt painstakingly counterproductive at best. He'd tried. He'd given it a go and asked a guy out once, who'd said yes and absolutely made his year. He remembered smiling for a week, losing his appetite and stalking the guy's Facebook profile until his laptop screamed through overuse. He was blonde and gorgeous with bright blue eyes lined with long eyelashes. He was a football player and he played the guitar. He had also said yes – yes.

The 'date' was one of those days that he knew he'd never forget. He'd dressed in the best clothes he owned – a pair of dark slim cut jeans and a deep purple button down shirt, fitted and expensive. He'd styled his hair nicely and pressed a dab of his father's aftershave to the underside of his ear – just in case.

As he'd pulled up to the coffee shop, stomach fizzing with butterflies and heart hammering to the point of passing out, he'd spotted the table of guys instantly. There were a lot of them, including Daniel, and they were laughing.

It'd been a nice thought, one which he'd clung onto a little too tightly and concocted in his mind. Yes, he hadn't specified why they'd arranged to meet up, nor had they pin pointed that it was in fact a date but Blaine had considered it pretty obvious. He'd stuttered his way through his question, trying so damn hard to stay articulate and confident. He'd even sung most of that afternoon's impromptu Warbler's performance straight to Daniel and the blue eyes staring back hadn't wavered for a second. They were all signs for the positive but there it was – his first sign to the contrary and one in a, now, long list. He wasn't good at that kind of thing. Maybe he'd get better with age.

His first kiss had been horribly forgetful too. Parties at Dalton were usually formal affairs, planned and organised to within an inch of their lives and filled with the esteemed and wealthy. They were nothing like Warbler parties, which were much more fun and laid back. He'd been introduced to Stefan by Thad who had offered a wink behind his back as he walked away, signalling his sneaky intent. Stefan was tall, lean, blonde (again) and a fencer. He was well spoken and eloquent, almost witty and obviously knew how to dress if his suit was anything to go by but Blaine, after hours of talking to him, had yet to even see a glimpse of the true person behind his eyes. They'd seemed dead somehow, cold and unfeeling.

He still couldn't even remember how they'd reached the point where lip on lip action was acceptable or even a normal progression; all Blaine could recall was a story about Stefan's sister's kitten and his epic saviour of said kitten from a tree in their garden. As a group of guys, possibly tipsy on the free champagne, had passed by singing something obnoxious and full of rude words, Blaine had turned to say something to difuse the odd feeling inside but was met with a pair of firm lips.

It hadn't been sweet and searching, soft and butterfly inducing, nor had it made his heart beat out of control or palms sweat. His skin hadn't tingled and coherent thoughts had remained intact so he knew, right there and then, that it had meant nothing.

Stefan hadn't asked for his number and he wasn't even sure he'd have taken it if he had.

That was where he stood. There'd been a couple of other kisses, not of any worth or note, and a couple of other guys, none of which had left a lasting stamp on his heart. At the time, he'd felt crushed and devastated but, now, he'd put it down to experience and moved on.

Falling easy and fast was a Blaine Anderson trait and god did he know it. He loved the feeling of gazing into someone else's eyes and diving straight into the world where those eyes were the only things that mattered. The messiness and swoop of the feelings that came with that moment was addictive and so was the touch of someone close, someone to smile at, someone to nudge playfully, someone to hug or pull near. He didn't experience it often so when it came and hit hard, Blaine knew he grabbed on tight and ran with it, hoping fiercely that something good would come out of it and that it would last. It never did.

Maybe you had to go for second best, he often found himself thinking. Maybe you weren't supposed to find that someone who made your stomach flip every time you looked at them. Everyone couldn't be that lucky.

He didn't talk about that with his parents though. It was a part of his life he kept to himself. After his past experiences and the many moments overheard and discussions witnessed, Blaine was of no confusion as to where his father's opinions lay. His sexuality wasn't something they discussed and Blaine often wondered if it'd ever be a comfortable conversation for them, something they could at least attempt, but it didn't seem that way. His mother was easier with it, asking him now and then if there was 'someone special' and she'd attempt to tease him if he ever mentioned a guy's name in passing but never in the company of her husband.

William Anderson wasn't homophobic. He also wasn't a bad man. He was simply a product of his up bringing, a man of his own time and generation who didn't understand and, if pushed, didn't really wish to. Their relationship had stayed intact so far and that was what mattered. They'd share sparse moments of closeness like the time they fixed that car together or the afternoons they'd watch a game and share sparkling cider. It was during those moments he'd see his mother out of the corner of his eyes smiling to herself before disappearing off, humming her own tune.

Blaine sighed, making his way to his room. He knew he'd be forced to come down to later to show his face and offer a hand to shake but, for now, it was a chance to switch on his favourite playlists and check his emails.

Shrugging off his blazer and wriggling out of his tie, he pulled on a cardigan instead and kicked his shoes to the side of his bed. His laptop flashed to life quickly and he smiled as he noticed a 'Warblers Council' email from Wes thanking them for their hard work and outlining the minutes of their meeting – he was a tyrant with a gavel when behind the Dalton desk but Wes Montgomery was a good guy and Blaine knew they'd always be friends.

Blaine grabbed his bottle of water from his bag and got to the end of his inbox, not before noticing an email address he wasn't familiar with, the subject line boldly stating – **"Need Someone To Talk To? Lima, Ohio PFLAG's new and awesome iniative!"**

He smiled, remembering David's insistence that he join PFLAG and mention it to his parents – David's sister was a lesbian so their family was big on inclusion. Blaine could remember shaking his head, pushing David off his laptop and announcing that his father wouldn't be seen dead at a meet and greet to discuss the community's plans for LGBT youth or whatever else they did.

He opened the email though, reading intently out of curiosity. By the time he reached the bottom, his fingers moved of their own accord, clicking the large blue link and typing his details so fast in case he changed his mind.

What the hell.

* * *

><p>~*~*~*~o~*~*~*~<p>

It was a typical day at McKinley High. Nothing was out of the ordinary at all, not that he was expecting anything else when he left the house that morning but a little bit of variety would have been nice.

Rachel stomped up to the front of the choir room, the plastic soles of her pumps clacking against the floor as everyone else just sat, too used to her tantrums that they barely even flinched, except Mr Schue.

"Now Rachel," he began, taking a breath, and Kurt just wanted to simultaneously laugh at his inability to feign composure and the disgusting knitted sweater vest he was sporting, "we have so much talent in this club and we've already decided that we're recruiting new members."

Kurt zoned out. It wasn't that Glee club wasn't important, it was just so damn repetitive now. They had a chance to hit New York if Sectionals and Regionals went their way and he had a scrap book dedicated solely to this end. It was filled with ideas and outfit designs, stuffed with flyers for places he'd like to visit and sights he'd like to see.

As Glee Club drew to a close, Kurt made his way to History. Walking the corridors again, after weeks of being away from them, felt odd. He'd forgotten the tug of anxiety as he turned his back to the constant stream of people and opened his locker to slide out his books. Smiling as he glanced at the photographs he and Mercedes had taken over the break: their mandatory face pack shot, which Kurt ordinarily would have burned but Mercedes had gone on and on about how it resembled something from a cool teen movie, a shot of them smiling together in the sun at the park with enormous ice creams and finally, the two of them posing in sunglasses and 'getting their diva on' as Mercedes had so fondly put it. That's how he'd spent his Summer break.

Turning his head to check for the flash of a red Letterman jacket, Kurt sighed, taking one last look at the remnants of his precious Summer and closed the door.

As always, History was boring. It wasn't for lack of interest, just the lack of imagination that Mrs Fairbanks showed when talking about the Titanic. All Kurt could see, as he closed his eyes momentarily, were long pastel dresses lined with lace and ladies with elbow length gloves and slanted hats which framed their porcelain faces. He smiled picturing the gentlemen in smooth suits and shiny shoes, their couture cuts so refined and oozing expense.

To be jolted out of such a daydream by a sheet of paper being thrown so fast at his desk it caused a draft wasn't ideal. Kurt frowned, shooting a look in the student's direction. Their task was to answer questions from the work book – so exciting.

Lunch was quiet. He spent it with Mercedes, as always, playing their favourite game – people watching.

"Heinous."

"Kurt, it's not that bad, it's just a little bright," Mercedes laughed, sipping her soda up a straw.

"It's offensive. Nobody in their right mind wears _that much _lime green and don't get me started on this little number you're sporting today... we need another closet intervention."

Flashing Kurt a look designed only to kill, she pursed her lips. "What is wrong with you? I mean, you're usually snappy but even this is a little much for you."

He sighed, straightening his shoulders and raising his eyebrows in a manner entirely rehearsed. "I'm fine. I just don't see why all the rest of us should have to be subject to garish colours this early in the morning."

Mercedes bit back a giggle. "Kurt, you're wearing a bow tie with clocks on it. Sweetie, something's up and you're not telling me and you _know _ I'll get it out of you eventually."

"Whatever," Kurt huffed, picking at his salad, "let's just get this day over with and we'll both be happy."

Kurt could feel the underlying sense of impending doom. It wasn't a new feeling, not by any means, but after a holiday from it, the realisation that it was going to have to become the norm again – at least until the Christmas break – was a little too hard to take.

It was as he walked to French he saw them.

"Hey there lady lips, meet anyone special over the holidays? Another fairy to prance around with, huh?"

He kept walking, his skin prickling as he felt them grow closer. It was the way they smelled that made his stomach churn - a mixture of turf, cheap aftershave and burgers. They kept taunting, their words becoming less and less inventive and more akin to random bursts of hatred for something Kurt was sure they just didn't understand – they never would.

"That's it, fag, you know what's good for you."

Kurt held his breath and kept walking. The faces around him stared, their eyes piercing his resolve as he blinked back tears. He promised to never let them break him, to never allow their words to get through but he just had to get used to it again, he had to build up that tolerance once more. That didn't stop his fingers from shaking though. He clutched tighter to the strap of his bag.

"Kurt?"

He turned slowly, half expecting the soft and gentle tone to have been imaginary but it wasn't, especially as he took in Miss Pillsbury's pale pink blouse and fitted lemon skirt. She smiled, opening her door a little wider and beckoning him in.

Her office always smelled fresh. Kurt took a deep breath as he sat, silently and upright, in the chair opposite her desk.

"I was hoping I'd bump into you today, Kurt," she said simply, her hands daintily resting on the writing pad in front of her, her nails clean and cut precisely. Kurt smiled a little. She truly was something to behold. Yes, her hair was ginger of the strongest kind but it was also her best asset. She made the most of herself and often wore some impressive heels which took the eyes away from some of the more eye watering adornments that hung around her neck – Kurt's particular favourite being the metal flower chain in purple. She was a kind soul, squeaky clean and slightly frightening in that regard, but sweet nonetheless.

"And why is that?" he asked simply.

"Well, I received an email from a group called PFLAG and I've done some research into what that group is-"

"I know what PFLAG is," he corrected her with a nod.

"Yes, yes of course. I suppose it comes with being um- well, what I was going to say was that the scheme they're running might be of interest to you. It's a letter writing scheme designed for young teens, boys and girls," she nodded excitedly, her hands now moving in flapping motion in front of her chest, "to get to know others and to be able to find someone to talk to... should they need it."

Kurt was sure he was hearing something other than the words coming from her mouth. _A letter writing scheme for random gay kids. _

"I've got friends," Kurt stated, matter of factly, watching as her eyes drooped causing her to resemble a kicked puppy. It would have been endearing had she not just suggested that he was so lonely that he might consider talking to an unknown via snail mail. It was mildly insulting and also verging on tragic.

"I don't think so. I've got homework and Glee club."

He watched her nod curtly, a small smile forming. "You know, Kurt, I really do admire you taking on so much and focusing on what you love. It's very... healthy," he sang, her shoulders shrugging with each syllable. "I also know that you have good friends like Mercedes and Tina and Rachel."

_Rachel 'deer sweater' Berry_. Kurt winced, pulling his bag tighter to him. He may just have to jump in front of a bus if that ever became reality.

"I do."

She let her hand rest slightly in front of her. Kurt wondered if it was her own way of reaching out without actually touching. It was sweet, in an odd way. "What I'm trying to say is that, you have good friends here but maybe it'd help if you had someone else to talk to, someone who knows a little more about what it's like to, um, who knows how it feels to um, well, who understands."

He had to bite down a laugh. She was a trooper, regardless of her scarily large eyes and lack of tact, and it was obvious she cared. "Look, Miss Pillsbury, I appreciate the thought, I really do, but I don't think it's a good idea."

Kurt smiled, pushing back the chair in order to make his escape. He watched her scramble in her in-tray, pulling out a small brochure. "Just take it," she urged with pleading eyes so round and doe that Kurt was sure he'd have accepted anything she wished to give him, "and think about it Kurt, it might be good for you."

He made his escape quickly. The feeling of Miss Pillsbury's eyes on him as he walked up the corridor was slightly disconcerting but he knew she meant well, hell, she was one of the only teachers at McKinley who did and she seemed to really _see _the situation. The McKinley hallways weren't a stage like they were for Rachel Berry and they weren't a stomping ground like they were for Puck – they were a necessity. A painful, drab necessity in which Kurt knew he was forced to endure unknown levels of torture before he could escape Lima, Ohio for good into the big wide world. He'd head to New York and Broadway where being theatrical was not only embraced, it was celebrated.

* * *

><p><strong>A week later<strong>

"Don't think you'll get away with it if I see you flaunting that junk in my face again, Hummel."

Kurt screwed his eyes closed, his heart hammering as Azimio and Karofsky backed down the hallway, high fiving and being so damn proud of themselves for the fact they could string a sentence together. Something inside hurt.

Suddenly, the year had begun and not even Glee Club could mask the worst parts of the day, the parts that were to be endured and brightened by singing about it or sharing a stage with the rest of the group. It wasn't helping as much anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Two weeks later<strong>

He'd never been wrong before but it seemed that Kurt Hummel had lost his ability to spot the most dyed hair from a mile off. It was blonde, perfectly, styled with just enough wax and just too much pazazz to belong to a straight guy and the lips – they were a plus too.

He was cute.

It wasn't as if the McKinley halls were crawling with _cute _or in fact _human. _Half of the guys spent more time with their hands under their girlfriend's shirts or clutching a game's console than on a book or an instrument. They weren't particularly cultured. On the scale from one to ten, they didn't rank high in the looks department either.

Brett, his partner in English class, was a typical example. His hair hadn't seen shampoo for far far _far _ too long, his clothes were rumpled and smelled as if something had died in the lining and the boy had stubble – actual stubble. Not that stubble wasn't sexy or becoming on the correct face ala Tom Ford, but Brett's stubble existed through sheer laziness, a trait that added to the wonderful pile that made up that of his English 'buddy'. There was also the matter of his voice, slurred and monotone – the product of either an unfortunate lack of brain cells or too much of the happy herb.

The pretty blonde who seemed to light up McKinley's halls with his _newness _was an exception. His clothes were ironed, his face shaved, his eyes bright and not to mention the hair.

"Would you stop staring," Mercedes urged, elbowing him in the side.

He frowned, flashing her a look of mild annoyance. "Mercedes, what do see when you look at that boy?"

She spent a few seconds staring, her eyes raking from his head to his toes until she smiled, slow and knowing. "He's a fine specimen of guy, that's what he is."

"He's also gay."

It was a debate that went on for days. It was also the fuel to the fire that caused Finn to jump down his throat once more and warn him off 'tainting' the new guy. It was one solo, one chance to sing with someone who wasn't a complete Neanderthal and who quite possibly could play for the same team.

After their exchange in the hallway, Kurt felt as if he was on air. He walked a little taller and there was a definite spring in his step. Sam was nice. He hadn't said no and certainly hadn't flinched away as if Kurt was some alien freak sent to convert him – he'd smiled. It was a start. A very promising start.

* * *

><p><strong>A few days later<strong>

Kurt kept his eyes on his hands, knotting together. He knew he'd cry if he let himself, the tears running hot and fast down his face out of sheer frustration. Of course Sam was straight, of course he was into Quinn, of course he'd been graceful enough to not turn Kurt down but Kurt couldn't mistake the slight twinge of relief in Sam's face as he'd let him down gently.

Watching them sing was sickening. They were so _blonde. _It was then that he promised himself he'd never do it again. He'd never jump in feet first, heart first, and allow himself to dream before he had solid proof that the other person would even look twice in his direction.

The ache inside was always there. He'd suppressed it after Finn, telling himself to grow up and to move on but there was always that spark of 'what if' that formulated. He was just as deserving as Quinn or Tina and, hell, if Rachel Berry could hold down a guy then there was no reason why he couldn't but there was a voice in the back of his mind, taunting and cruel, that spoke only of loneliness as if it was something he should get used to.

His dad had all but agreed with it. Someone just as brave? It didn't seem possible to find that, not in Lima. Kurt swallowed, letting his brain drown out the pretty little notes of Sam's guitar, his eyes dragging away from Quinn's as she fluttered her eyelashes expertly.

He kept his eyes on the chair in front instead, willing the day to be over so he could go home, alone, and maybe finish off some homework, alone, then go help out his dad or cook or sew... alone. The days stretched out now with intermittent harassment and nobody who truly understood what it felt like to _want _so much but for it to be so far out of your grasp that it physically hurt to consider it.

That evening, after finishing up with dinner, Kurt found himself sitting in the centre of his bed, his laptop perched in front of him and a small blue brochure by his side. He typed fast, his fingers shaking slightly as they stabbed the keys one by one.

* * *

><p>~*~*~*~o~*~*~*~<p>

_**Dear Friend,**_

_**Please find attached the first letter from your new pen friend. All instructions can be found on our website but know that all correspondence shall be anonymous till such time as you feel able to exchange addresses and contact details. **_

_**We hope our introductory format and helpful hints for topics can give you an insight into the person you will hopefully get to know.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**The 'Getting to Know You' Team  
>Lima, Ohio PFLAG <strong>_

_Dear Kurt,_

_I guess I should say hello. I'm not really sure what to say to someone I've never met before, especially as we're writing via letter. It's nice to meet you or write to you._

_I wasn't sure if this would be a good idea as it isn't something I'd usually do but my Grandfather used to say 'try everything once' and he lived a great life so I'll take his advice and go with that._

_The service said we should write a little about ourselves:_

_I'm Blaine. We're not supposed to give out surnames so I'll refrain. I'm gay. I came out a few years ago. I go to a private school and transferred here last year. and the rules here are enforced and codified so nobody dares step out of line. It's comforting. _

_I like to sing and I'm in a highly respected show choir but if you're not into that kind of thing then it can seem lame but we're serious about it and we have fun with it too. I've had the honour of singing most of the solos this year, so that must mean something, I suppose._

_I like to read too. I have stacks of books in my room that I haven't read but I collect them for when I do have time._

_I don't have any brothers or sisters. I have no pets either. I don't have a boyfriend._

_I sound exciting, don't I? I play the piano. That's interesting, isn't it? My parents signed me up for lessons when I was five and I've been playing every since at recitals and concerts. I love music. I love making music, listening to music, writing music..._

_I hope you like it too because you might find me obnoxious if not. _

_I know that letter writing might seem a little out dated and it's almost a forgotten art form but, to me, it's something I really like the thought of. I suppose you could call me a romantic at heart and some might even say I'm a little cheesy but there's a beauty in it. It's personal as, right now, you're reading my handwriting and the very same pen strokes I'm making. It's one of the rawest forms of communication and one of the truest, I suppose. It's artistic too, which I like. _

_I know this might sound cheesy, there's that word again, but I hope you get on ok at school and you are happy. When I read some of the entries on the forum on the website before I signed up, so many people were sad and afraid. I hope you're not one of them. If you are then please know that if you need someone to talk to or just someone to write at then I'd be glad to step up._

_I don't really know what else to say so I'll leave it there. I really look forward to reading your letter._

_Blaine._

* * *

><p>Kurt smiled, re-reading it again and feeling himself sigh as he read Blaine's obviously sincere message. He was sweet. He was also musical. He had a silly name but, as Kurt read the letter again, he felt... <em>warm<em>. It was strange, not knowing the person at all yet their words were able to portray so much. There was the odd twinge of embarrassment that came and went when Kurt found himself wondering if he was pathetic for writing to some stranger but then he remembered the way that people in days gone by had communicated and how so many heroines in books and movies had waited patiently for the written word or had raced down sweeping staircases to retrieve a long awaited message.

It was a thought so fused with romance and whimsy that Kurt barely had chance to breathe before he found his fountain pen and began to write.

* * *

><p><strong>Dear Blaine,<strong>

**I love music. I live music and I'm sure I came out of the womb singing, and possibly told the midwife she'd look better as a blonde or something like that. Your worries are unfounded.**

**I like to read too but I'll admit that instead of books by my bed, I have every Vogue in existence since I was approximately fourteen. Everyday is an opportunity for fashion after all. **

**I have no brothers or sisters. I live with my dad and he's dating Carole who is the mother of one of the boy's in my Glee Club, Finn. It's a situation... **

**Yes, I'm in a Glee Club. Spooky, huh? We're led, if you can call it that, by a teacher called Will Schuster – he wears vests and likes to use the white board a little too much but he keeps Rachel Berry in check so I guess he'd good for something. Rachel's our 'star performer' – I used the quotation marks for a reason. I could sing her under the table any day of the week unless it's Barbra, there she has me stumped.**

**I love musicals (Wicked and Gypsy are surpass able in my eyes), Patti LuPone, old movies, lots of TV shows I'll not list for fear of wasted paper, sewing and I make a killer soufflé. My best friend is Mercedes and she can be best described as a stone cold diva. Her voice could shatter glass in the best way possible. **

**We have a lot in common. I play the piano too but I don't think I'd be as good as you. I let lessons slide a few years ago. It's admirable that you kept it up what with your show choir commitments too. You must be busy!**

**Thank you for what you said. I read the forum too. School's ok. It's not easy but it's not the worst it could be either. I wouldn't say I'm happy there either. You're lucky to go to a school like yours – it sounds amazing. If I walked down the corridor and so much as looked at another guy you can betcha bottom dollar that someone would have something to say about it and it wouldn't be pretty.**

**Letter writing is definitely a lost art. I have a set of the prettiest stationary from a few Christmas' ago that I haven't been able to use. I like the romantic notion too – maybe TOO much. It reminds me of old movies where people would write to each other on parchment and with quills. Maybe I'll buy a quill.**

**The service said to keep these introductory letters brief. I suppose if people don't like the sound of the other person then you haven't wasted your time and made a fool out of yourself on paper. There's no obligation to reply at all, just so you know.**

**Thank you for your letter. **

**Kurt.**

* * *

><p>~*~*~*~o~*~*~*~<p>

Blaine smiled, reading the letter for the third time. He found himself laughing, especially at the midwife line and the fact that Kurt, whoever he was, was seriously writing out his odd longing for ancient stationary as if it was stream of consciousness.

Sitting in the centre of his bed, his shoes kicked off and feet tucked under him, Blaine found himself itching to reply. It was that paragraph, the one about not needing to reply. It felt sad almost and there was something in the way that Kurt kept his sentences short, not to mention sarcastic, when talking about his experiences at school, that made Blaine's heart clench.

It felt odd. He'd signed up to the scheme on a whim, not expecting it to go any further than a simple introductory letter but before he knew it, he'd grabbed a pen off his desk and begun to write his reply.


	2. Best Wishes

**Author's Notes **-

**_I am OFFICIALLY finished my course after a gruelling year so I have actual free time and an actual life once more. I'll be updating MUCH more frequently. Thank you for the wonderful feedback on this story so far :)_**

**_I decided to shorten the length and keep the Chapters a little longer. You'll see it's gone down from 18 to 12, in total. This Chapter set up so much so it was pretty necessary I wrote it this way! I hope you enjoy it... :) Thank you to everyone for the encouragement._**

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

The smell of garlic hung in the air, the sound of Elton John and clinking pans acting as a soundtrack to his mother's cooking in the kitchen below him. Homework was slow and tedious and when it came to Lit. Blaine had always considered himself pretty damn insightful but, for some unknown reason, his mind was elsewhere.

Another Friday night dinner.

This time it was his father's partner, Jackson, the guy who slapped your back and called you 'sport' or 'son' and simultaneously tried to set you up with his daughter. Blaine had given up counting how many times he'd been laughed at, gargling and mocking, whilst being slapped again on the back with the words 'you need to put yourself out there son'.

It was difficult to hold back. The temptation to throw his chair and scream in the guy's face was too overpowering sometimes but he resisted, as always.

The prospect of another night biting his lip wasn't ideal but he loved his mother's cooking and knew it wasn't his father's fault that his boss was an asshole. He had to play it straight for a while because of Jackson or 'the bald douche bag' as he called him silently, cursing him with every clack of his knife against his mother's fine china.

"Blaine?"

Turning in his desk chair, Blaine smiled a little at the sight of his father in the doorway dressed head to toe in what appeared to be Armani day-time.

"Hey Dad."

"Homework?" William asked, padding into the room and standing, arms folded, behind Blaine's chair.

"Lit... but it's tough this week. I hate the novel."

Blaine watched his father reach for the battered copy of Lord of the Flies, sliding it off the desk and flicking through the pages. He kept his eyes on his father's as they read the blurb. It was always a shock to witness his father so intent and close. Ever since _that _ day, Blaine wasn't sure they'd said a truthful word to each other. They'd talked, yes, but the relationship they'd once had, full of ball games in the garden and trips to the aquarium or museum to see the dinosaur bones, was a thing of the past. They were different with each other now – more tentative, as if a single word out of line would tip something unknown over the edge and their relationship would crumble entirely. Some things were better left unsaid for that exact purpose.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, Blaine, you've always excelled at literature. Why don't you talk to one of your teachers if you find it difficult?"

Blaine swallowed with a smile. "I will, dad."

A moment of silence took over, awkward and telling. It happened a lot and Blaine was so used to the way they'd glance at each other, smile and look away. It wasn't normal for a father and son to be so careful around one another but time and experience had taught them that it was the best way.

"Dinner at seven, Blaine. Maybe change into one of your new shirts?" William offered, making his way out of the room, "just possibly leave the checked one for a different occasion."

Blaine nodded as his father left the room. Sighing and throwing his book onto his bed, he climbed up after it and leaned over to his chest to retrieve his pile of letters.

It was as if time had flown since he and Kurt had begun to write to one another. They'd exchanged a few letters now - most very introductory - but Blaine found himself smiling at Kurt's way with words and his humour. It was obvious that McKinley high school was a little different to Dalton Academy. Settling back against his pillow, Blaine re-read the passage he loved the most.

~o~oOo~o~

**...I promised I'd introduce you to the Glee Club and since you can't meet them in person, I'll bring them to life as best I can.**

**There's Finn. I've told you about him before. He's always a few seconds behind any normal person and owns a pretty impressive collection of shirts that not even my dad would be seen dead in – and that's saying something. He's huge. I mean, tall and enormously so. This obnoxious show choir director we had for a whole day and who pretty much insulted us all (which was hysterical as the guy looked like something from Mordor) called Finn 'frankenteen' and it stuck so I guess that gives you some indication. He's sweet though and we kind of live together so I'm obliged to like him ;)**

**Rachel Berry. Well, like I said before, she's the 'star of Glee Club'. She has this Barbra vibe going on and worships the ground Ms Streisand walks on, which would be tacky except she is (and never ever tell her I told you this) exceptional. She's the most irritating human being you'll ever meet and her wardrobe should all be burned but we're somehow 'friends'. No idea how that happened but by some unfortunate twist of fate... it did. We have the same dreams and I'm almost ashamed to say it but we're too similar sometimes.**

**Puck. Well, the guy used to throw me in dumpsters but somewhere along the way he realised there was this thing in his chest that pumped blood called a heart and, for some reason, he uses it now. He's a self confessed bad ass. If you minus the 'bad', that sums him up. He has a Mohawk and kills rock numbers like it's in his soul but I swear, the guy's a tattoo and a DUI away from a trailer park life.**

**Ms Quinn Fabray. I somehow respect this girl. She got pregnant last year and suffered a major downfall. She was queen bee – you know? Popular, blonde, legs that other girls would sacrifice themselves for. She SOMEHOW manages to pull of 'wholesome' and 'sexy' all at once but she's a bitch. In fact... BITCH. It needs capitalising. If you ever meet her, don't let her cute smile and blonde curls fool you – she's like a mirage. Catch her on the right day though and she's a sweetheart. Mind screw, huh?**

**Tina and Mike. Yes, I'm referencing them as a couple. They're Asian and for some reason it sums them up perfectly. Tina has style and we share a love of all things exceptional. Think feisty feminist and you have Tina down but she's even a little shy until you get to know her. Then there's Mike. They're quite sickening actually with their doe eyes and cute in jokes but the way Tina watches Mike dance (the guy can't sing a note but he gives MJ a run for his money in the moves department) says it all. They're pretty much in love.**

**Sam. He has a Beiber cut and even I don't mind. He's sweet and a little nerdy, especially when he does these god awful impressions that he's so sure make him cool but, god bless the boy, he has no game. He's a walking advert for 'Sun In' but he'll never admit it – I know better though. He can't fool me!**

**Brittany. "Dolphins are gay sharks." Finn told me those actual words came out of her mouth. As stunning a dancer as you'll ever see but GOOD GOD is this girl a sandwich short of a picnic basket. She's sweet though, if a little scary in her lack of all things common sense. I tend to sit a few seats away from her – you know? Just incase.**

**Santana Lopez. When I said Quinn was a bitch – meet Santana, queen of the bitches. In some way, I respect it about her. She's anything but false and speaks her mind but I swear I've held back from giving her a piece of my mind at times. Sometimes I think she's hiding so much inside that there'll come a point in the future when she'll just explode. I don't think I've ever seen her act sincere in all of the time I've known her. She's Brittany's best friend too. They link pinkies and THAT is almost cute... almost – if cute could bare its teeth!**

**Artie. If I could take a match to anyone's wardrobe in Glee Club it'd be his (and not Rachel's, which speaks VOLUMES, believe me!). Artie's in a wheelchair but that is no excuse for those vomit inducing sweaters he wears. I joke not – today he wore one with bowling pins on in a lovely chunky red knit. THAT WAS SARCASM IF YOU DIDN'T PICK IT UP. He's 'so fly' (his words, not mine) and raps at any given moment but he's a nice guy so I can't really complain.**

**Then there's Mercedes Jones. My girl. She's my best friend – the Glinda to my Elpheba, the Thelma to my Louise. Her voice is so incredible I could cry. Seriously. She's an original diva. We became friends last year and I wouldn't be without her. She owns a hideous collection of neon clothes but she's fierce in the best way and we're going to move in together the second we can get as far away from Ohio as possible.**

~o~oOo~o~

Blaine chuckled once more. It was additive trying to imagine how Kurt would speak and how he'd phrase his sentences as, even written, they were so full of _something. _He seemed so fused with spark and bite that Blaine couldn't help but want to hear more even if it was about people he would probably never meet.

Kurt had even included a crazy diagram with colour coordinated arrows to show how each member related to one another through relationships or, as Kurt put them 'moments of pure insanity'. As far as Blaine could understand, they had all had their 'moments' with each other at one point or another except for Mercedes and Kurt. They seemed to be a twosome on their own. Blaine chewed his lip as he opened Kurt's next letter. They'd decided to set some ground rules, based on historic letter writing and the obstacles that modern day places in their path. Blaine laughed to himself, knowing he'd suggested that little nugget and how quickly Kurt had ran with the idea.

_...So Kurt, I wanted to suggest something. Rules. I know it may make me sound boring and lame but I read somewhere that it's sensible to do this as modern day can ruin the magic of letter writing and I really don't want that to happen. I like it this way. I wrote a few – let me know what you think?_

_1. No electronic messaging – e.g. social networking, online messaging, emails.  
>2. No texting or phoning<br>3. No surnames  
>4. Handwritten letters – no typing<br>5. No photographs_

_Obviously... this might change in the future but I thought, for now, they seemed ok to live by. What do you think?_

~o~oOo~o~

**...You asked me what I thought about your rules. You must have read my mind. I like the anonymity and I like to read **_**your **_**writing. If you know what I mean? It seems so much more personal. You have nice writing by the way : ) **

**I, Kurt, hereby agree to your rules fully and please find my signature below.**

_**Kurt. ;)**_

**I do propose two extra rules though. **

**1. With each letter, we send something extra. It can be anything you wish – a ticket stub, a pressed flower (I like pressed flowers), a drawing, a souvenir etc.  
>2. Every month we swap mix CDs. I have hundreds of recommendations and I'm always open to new music. I've tried getting the Glee Club to appreciate the wonders of Patti LuPone or some classic Broadway but Finn just cranks out Air Supply and Rachel will hum Funny Girl and I know I'm never going to be able to educate them further.<strong>

**What do you think?**

**Also – I've included my first 'extra something' in this letter!**

~o~oOo~o~

_...I think those rules sound amazing. I love the thought of mix CDs. I'm always trying to get the guys in my Glee Club to expand their horizons but, as I've told you, they're quite traditional. Not that I don't like it, I do, I just wish they'd try something new every once in a while. I'm open to Broadway – definitely – and any recommendations from you! _

_You made a laminated rule card. I have to admit, I laughed and it made my day. I pinned it on my pin board next to your address so I will always remember our strict promises ;) The stickers and glitter were an awesome addition, you're right! Although I think some of the press on gems fell off. I tried to glue them back on but I don't have a 'craft bag' like you. _

~o~oOo~o~

Playing idly with one of the gems from the envelope, Blaine smiled to himself. In only a matter of weeks, they'd already learned so much about each other and none of it had come with awkward glances or uncomfortable silences, especially when letting things slip that would ordinarily go unsaid in normal conversation.

Blaine had learned of Kurt's subscription to a website designed for bondage lovers, not because of the kinky sexual element but for the sake of fashion.

..._ Please don't let this taint your opinion of me. I have never told anyone this before, not even my dad. I intercept the invoices before he sees them. _

Swallowing and forcing back a blush, Blaine smiled to himself. He had never encountered someone quite like Kurt before. Being gay had always been somewhat of an undercurrent in his life. It had never been something that he embraced, which came hand in hand with who he truly was. The fact that Kurt seemed to not only embrace his sexuality fully but also his own interests too – no matter how 'out there' they seemed – was so incredible.

He shook his head and tucked the letters back in his drawer. He'd never be that brave. Being so desperate to act on the feelings fizzing inside but being full in the knowledge that doing so would cause so many problems that it was easier – simpler – to just let life run the way it always had done. It was a steady stream of Dalton, homework, Friday night meals, The Warblers, piano lessons and the odd soccer practice. The dull ache inside spoke so loudly of the frustration he felt. Sliding on his dress shirt and buttoning it up without paying any attention to his actions, Blaine frowned at himself in the mirror.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt close to someone.

The Warblers were all good friends but, with the exception of Wes and David, they'd never become that close. They were a well oiled machine and a team of ultimate enthusiasm but Blaine wanted more. There wasn't that person to text when something exciting happened in his life, nor was there someone to buy coffee for and there was never a hand to hold as he walked down the street. He'd find himself watching couples aimlessly sauntering alongside one another in such comfort and with such ease that it hurt – ached. He could only imagine his father's face if he ever had to adjust to such behaviour.

The rush of irritation came daily. It spread along his skin like a blanket, teasing at his chest and prompting a sigh so fused with tension that it was always a little too much to stand. He finished his tie, tugging it higher and straightening his collar. Glancing back into the mirror, Blaine took a breath and brushed a fleck of dust from his collar. It hurt if he was truthful. He knew he held back so much from the wider world and portrayed a tried and tested Blaine, one that people respected, one that made people proud. It was his own self pride that took a battering on a daily basis, knowing that he was still running and truly didn't know how to stop.

"Blaine, honey. Dinner!"

Taking another steadying breath, Blaine pulled on his blazer and made his way downstairs.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Days were still hard and nights had become his recovery period. They'd moved house a matter of weeks ago, Kurt acquiring a new room with an _actual walk in closet _and a nook for his mother's vanity cabinet with Finn safety ensconced in this very own room down the hall – the drum kit was far enough away to stop Kurt's nightly temptation to strangle Finn senseless. The house was incredibly nice, spacious and suited them down to the ground, which was the first step to becoming acquainted as a family.

Having Finn around was strangely comforting too. Their parents weren't married but they were serious and it was enough for them to claim each other as family members and scarily... _brothers._

"Dude?"

Kurt glanced up from his homework to find Finn in his doorway in his trademark plaid shirt. "Why do I sense that you want something from me?" Kurt asked. He placed his pen down and swung his chair around. "You look awful."

Sitting on the bed, Finn scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Do you think Rachel will forgive me for what I did with Santana?" he asked, his brow crinkling in the most depressing way.

"Finn, you slept with a girl who called your girlfriend a poisonous dwarf and who happens to ooze sex appeal from her pores. Frankly, I think Rachel needs some time."

"But, dude, it was when she was with Jessie. She's acting like I cheated on her but I didn't."

Kurt groaned, peeling himself off the chair and landing softly next to Finn. The fact that Finn Hudson was the kindest soul with the biggest heart was frustrating with the knowledge that he had absolutely no idea how to use it. He was clueless and utterly dumb sometimes. "Look," Kurt began, nudging his brother's shoulder, "if Rachel had slept with Puck and had kept it from you then months down the line Puck had spat it out in front of everyone in Glee Club. How would you feel?"

"I'd want to punch his face."

Closing his eyes, Kurt nodded in a failed attempt to channel what little patience he held. "Exactly. Santana and Rachel are polar opposites. Rachel is no doubt comparing herself to Santana in every way. You're going to have to give it time. Rachel Berry is a dog with a bone. There is no way she will ever let go of you. She's irritating like that."

Finn pursed his lips, sneaking a glance at Kurt. "She's way hotter and way nicer than Santana."

"She's also just as crazy, Finn. She's a teenage girl no matter how wise she may seem and no matter how much talent she holds. People do stupid things and you've upset her. She'll come around."

"You think?" Finn asked, his eyes round and sad. Kurt sucked in a breath, feeling an inescapable wish to take his pain away. Finn was a pathetic lump sometimes but he tried so hard to be something for everyone and Kurt knew just how tiring that could be.

"Yes. I do."

They sat in silence for a moment, Finn breathing heavily. Kurt examined his nails briefly, patted Finn's knee and returned to his work.

"Thanks bro." Kurt smiled fondly, unable to resist it, and turned with a shrug. "Oh and before I forget, this came for you."

Finn placed a small envelope on the desk and left, not before catching the door with his arm and causing it to slam. With a roll of his eyes, Kurt smiled, quelling the strange sense of happiness he felt at seeing Blaine's handwriting.

After their steady stream of letters, there'd been a lull and one that made Kurt a little uncomfortable. He'd spoken to Mercedes, telling her all about their correspondence, all about Blaine and their plan to continue to write to one another. She'd been supportive but her words had stuck with him.

"_You don't have to write to someone to get comfort if you need it, Kurt. We're all here for you."_

It was sweet of her, yes, but she didn't understand. Glee Club was fun and the best outlet possible but nobody seemed to notice the way he slid to the back of the room during big numbers or avoided their powwows. It wasn't that he didn't want to be involved. Given the chance, he knew he could steal the show but they were all wrapped up in their own drama that it wasn't all that surprising that they didn't seem to realise how quiet he'd become. Blaine understood. Blaine hadn't had the chance to be swayed by high school prejudice or his past. He was a neutral ear and someone who understood, very specifically, how it felt to struggle with coming to terms with yourself.

He sat still for a second just staring at the envelope. Blaine was technically still a stranger. Kurt knew nothing about the way Blaine looked; he had no idea how tall he was, what his voice sounded like nor did he truly know who Blaine was as a person. His letters were sweet and gentlemanly with a proper use of words and polite phrases, which said a lot but, as Kurt slowly tore the paper folds, he wondered if he was being lame.

This was a guy he would possibly never meet. They hadn't really opened up to each other and every letter had been conversational, light hearted and a far too simple to even consider branching into the unknown territory of emotions and feelings. Kurt knew that the second they did, he'd have to hold back on spilling his guts. No way did a stranger need to know about the way he felt bruised from so many locker slams or the way he'd swallow down tears silently to himself on those days when everything seemed grey.

As he slid the letter out, a small pressed yellow flower fell onto the desk.

Kurt just stared at it, unsure if he was imagining that someone he didn't know had gone to the length of locating a flower with petals long enough, pressing it and preserving it. Nobody had ever done anything as sweet for him before – definitely not a boy. He began to read, a smile teasing at his lips.

~o~oOo~o~

_Dear Kurt,_

_I know we haven't discussed how we were going to write these letters and if we were just going to refrain from being too personal and I feel kind of uncomfortable because I don't know if this will freak you out. I'm sorry for not writing for a while. I didn't know if you'd be bored by the fact that my life revolves around much of the same routine for long period of time. Nothing was exciting enough to write about unless you want a blow by blow account of Glee Club rehearsals or how I'm taking an exam to move up a grade in my piano lessons. Boring, huh?_

_I know we don't know each other very well yet and we're technically still strangers but I was feeling low and for some reason, I wanted to write everything down and send it to you. _

_I feel lame because you have your own things going on and there's no reason for me to burden you with MY problems so I don't want you to think you're my counsellor or anything like that. I know we're in similar positions. I am not uncomfortable with being gay and I know you're not either which is rare. I like that you feel the same as me in that regard and it's comforting to me. I've never met anyone brave with it all. So many people are scared of admitting who they are so they haven't started to tackle the fact they have to deal with how to ACTUALLY BE PROUD of it. It's so hard when people tell you it's wrong at every turn._

_I'm past that. I don't think about that because we're not wrong – they're wrong. The struggle, for me anyway, is that I don't know how to act on it – you know?_

_I'm taking a leap of faith here because I know it'd be so easy for you to wonder why this weird guy is writing you such a serious letter and pouring his heart out but I don't do it so often. I don't really talk about it all, if I'm honest. _

_I've never had a boyfriend before. I've been on a few dates and I've kissed a few people but I'm still pretty clueless. I haven't met anyone that ... well, takes my breath away. _

_Sounds cheesy, right? Forgive me. I just want that. I know I'm gay and I'm attracted to guys but it's like I've hidden how I feel for so long that I don't even know how to BE gay. I go to an all boy's school so communal showers etc are all so normal and I've never had a problem with the guys there – they're great. I told you about the bullying policy – it's enforced so strictly. They're good guys. It's like I'm immune to my feelings now except when I really think about them, mostly when I'm alone, and realise how much I'm missing out on. _

_Nobody is _out _at my school (that I know of) but the guys all know about me and they're supportive. It's almost forgotten about now because I don't talk about being gay – why would I? I don't talk about guys I like and can't even swoon over Tom Ford. It... well, it sucks._

_I have friends but I guess I get lonely. I sound so ungrateful, don't I? I'm strong enough to just get on with things. I grew up a lot when I left my old school but I'll not get into that._

_Do you ever wish you could just sit down with someone and you wouldn't have to explain yourself or even need to say anything because they'd just get you and even if they didn't, they'd just be there for you?_

_My family know about me being gay. My mum wasn't too phased and she sometimes asks if there's someone special but I think she keeps it quiet because of my dad. He's wasn't exactly thrilled about it. Sometimes I think he wishes he had a different son. You never spoke about your family so I don't know if your mom and dad know about you but, if they do, I hope they accept you because it's tough when I look at my dad at times and wonder if he regrets me._

_I sound so dramatic. I wouldn't blame you if you'd put this letter down and decided never to write back again! _

_I think the reason I'm saying this is because of tonight. We have family meals on a Friday night. My dad's a business man and he invites partners or people he's looking to work with over for a meal and negotiation. My mom is amazing and prepares a delicious meal every single week and, of course, I am required to make an appearance. I have to play the dutiful son. I hate it._

_I'm proud of my dad and what he's achieved but I remember something he said to me not so long after I came out, the very same day actually – 'You're my son and I will always love you but it won't do you any favours if you make this known. Don't let this life choice taint a person's view of you before they get to know you'._

_He doesn't understand. I don't expect him to really. His generation is one that wasn't as educated as we are but it still hurts. He expects me to just hide it. Don't ask, don't tell – right? _

_This guy who came this evening is one of the worst. I can hardly stand to be in the same room as him. I tried to get me to date his daughter and even pushed me to write my number down to give to her because, and I quote, 'I need to be shown a good time'. I feel for her, whoever she is._

_At school, I'm respected and I love it there. I don't feel like I have to hide who I am but I just don't express it. It's not like I want to scream it from the rooftops or wear a rainbow bandana and sing Gaga as I walk down the corridor..._

_I just want someone to talk to about it. Someone who doesn't think I should quieten down who I am and someone who just GETS IT. I'm bad at expressing myself – if I could sing all of this, I'd be so much more eloquent. _

_Is there a song entitled 'I want someone to talk to and accept me for who I am?'... ha..._

_I've wallowed in self pity for too long now so I'll give up and give you a break from my melancholy. I promise I'm not a downer in real life. I like to think I'm kind of fun when you get to know me. Glee Club front men can't be boring after all )_

_I think the word of the day is: STIFLED. _

_Anyway, I'll be busy this week because we have rehearsals every evening. If you still want to write to me after all of THAT (and please, please do. I'm assure you I am actually normal!) then I will write back as soon as I can._

_I hope everything is going well for you and you're happy. You mentioned in your previous letter that there was a competition for you coming up – good luck with that. I'm sure you'll do great! Tell me all about it, I'm always interested to hear._

_I also enclosed a little present. I'm sticking to the rules ;) I hope you like it. My mom gets fresh flowers every week for Friday evenings. I don't think she realises that one of the tulips is missing!_

_Take Care, _

_Best Wishes,_

_Blaine_

~o~oOo~o~

Kurt was still. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs and, as gentle as the petals on Blaine's flower, he felt tears pool against his eyeleashes.

It was as if he had written so many of the lines himself. The longing was so dull an ache now that it was part of everyday life. It was normal to him now. Blaine didn't have a Burt Hummel, he didn't have a Mercedes and he certainly didn't have someone to talk to.

He wasn't bullied and broken but he was still suffering in his own way. Kurt sniffed, wiping his eyes as he fumbled a pen, his mind racing. Locating his prettiest and newest writing paper, he thought about how he'd laid his head on his father's shoulder and complained about the fact he'd never find someone to walk hand in hand with and the fact he'd attend Junior Prom alone. Blaine didn't have someone to vent to – he was alone. 'I'll not get into that' – those words. It was the avoidance in those words that summed up Blaine's position. Nobody had wanted to hear before so why should they now?

Kurt felt a tug of affection pulling at his chest and urging his pen to write. If Blaine needed someone to talk to then he'd get just that.

~o~oOo~o~

"The council have reached a decision for the set list."

Blaine sat up straight. Scanning the room with a smile, David cleared his throat. "We've come to an agreement that Nick's rendition of Eight Days a Week is perfect to mix up the Top Forty choices we've gone for and Blaine's counterbalance of fresher and more current numbers will make for a decent set list."

"Congratulations," Thad added with a curt nod. The room erupted into a hum of mumbled excitement, some patting Blaine and Nick on the back in celebration, as the council packed up their papers. Wes winked in Blaine's direction as always, breaking his stately persona.

"Well done, Anderson. Another one in the bag, eh?" Jeff called, grinning hugely, "time to show the judges at Sectionals what we're made of!"

The only thing to do was laugh. Blaine slid his bag back over his shoulder, thanking the guys who offered him congratulations, and made his way out into the corridor. The pent up energy inside was enough to fuel a decent performance and he knew, regardless of anything, that he'd get on stage and refuse to let anything stand in his way. Being in front of an audience and singing with every ounce of energy was about the best thing he knew how to do.

~o~oOo~o~

**Dear Blaine,**

**Can I firstly say thank you for my flower. You're assertive ;) I promise I didn't tell you that I liked them as a hint... : ) It's currently on my vanity so I'll see it every morning and evening. I spend too much time at my vanity. It was my mother's so it means a lot to me.**

**Never presume I'd judge you, Blaine. I'm hardly one to judge – I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of it. **

**I understand almost every sentiment you wrote to me and I wanted to make sure you know there was someone else who get you because I do. I don't go to a school were being gay is accepted and kids are protected but I do have a dad who loves me for me and even when I doesn't get it ... he tries.**

**I've never told you about the time I pretended to be straight. Plaid shirts and trucker caps. It was horrific. It was just after my dad and Carole got together and Finn started spending time with us. My dad seemed to find 'the son he never had' – you know? The one he could watch football games with versus the son with a bedazzler and spandex leotard. It hurt seeing him spending so much time with Finn because I'm his son too and just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm a girl. I thought I was losing him and tried to show him that I would try just as much as he was and try to be that son for him. I hated it and when he realised what I was doing, he didn't know why I'd try to be someone I'm not. **

**If you knew me in real life, you'd know why it was kind of out of character for me. Being different is the best thing about me and I'm proud of it but my dad's the most important person in my life so I had to try.**

**I do understand what it's like to be scared though. There are guys at my school who'd give anything to 'beat the gay' out of me and I expect it but I shouldn't. I walk down the corridor at school and wonder if I'll get to the other side without SOMEONE shouting something pathetically homophobic. They're all small and unworthy of my time but it still hurts. How could it not?**

**Your father sounds like a good man but, like you said, he's not educated and he doesn't understand. Have you tried talking to him about how it makes you feel?**

**I do understand. I feel lonely all of the time because nobody actually SEES me. I give just as good as I get and have friends so I don't hide in the shadows – anything but – but I wish things were easier. I wish I could be easy with someone and not have to second guess them or keep part of myself back. I don't want people to pity me. I don't let people see that they get to me. They're not worth it. **

**It doesn't mean it doesn't though.**

**I'm getting out of Ohio as soon as physically possible! **

**I am sorry this letter is shorter than it should be. I wanted to reply so quickly to you because... well, just because : )**

**We're rehearsing for Show Choir Sectionals! Have you heard of them? Mr Schue entered us again and as Nationals are in New York we're giving it our all eventhough he's decided to NOT give me a solo again. Maybe I didn't scream loud enough. Grrr. If he wasn't so sickeningly sweet so often and so endearingly unfortunate in the wardrobe department, I'd want to throw things at him. Actually, forget that – he's ridiculous. I want a damn solo.**

**I will write an enormous letter telling you all about it though. Good Luck for your piano exam. Channel your inner Mozart!**

**Sending best wishes right back,**

**Kurt**


	3. In Person

**_Author's Notes:  
>Well, you guys are just very sweet. Thank you for all of the LOVELY feedback. I will be updating much more frequently now I have plenty of free time on my hands. <em>**

**_There is a lot LESS letter writing in this Chapter for a very specific reason. They will resume in Chapter 4 :)_**

**_I really hope you enjoy - Another Chapter will be up before Friday as I'm off down to London Town for Glee Live. Excitement is even strong enough a word for the fact I have second row seats. Eek!_**

**_Thank you all once more and, please enjoy! :)_**

* * *

><p><em>...Good luck with your competition, Kurt. I'm sure you'll all be wonderful. We're unfortunately not competing this year. Our council decided it was time we focused on paid performances to raise funds and as it breaks the rules for the Show Choir stipulations, we can't compete. <em>

_I wish you all the luck in the world. Have a wonderful day._

_Sending lucky vibes (not that you'll need them),_

_Blaine_

He had to lie. The rush of adrenaline that had coursed through his veins upon reading that Kurt's Glee Club were performing at exactly the same competition was too much.

He couldn't meet Kurt. Not yet.

It was a kind of panic that Blaine had never experienced before. It was terrifying knowing that someone out there in the world was beginning to learn of his deepest thoughts, thoughts he'd never dared share with anyone else through fear of, well, too much. Kurt knew him though. Kurt, the elusive guy who was simply at the other end of a piece of paper and postal run, was one of the only people in the world who seemed to _get _the frustration, the loneliness, the pain caused by bullying and the sheer beauty of Jake Gyllenhall without a shirt. He got it all and the prospect of shattering that reality so early in the game wasn't just frightening, it was absolutely heart breaking.

The lie was necessary. He'd go, they'd perform and Kurt wouldn't leave with the romanticised version of Blaine trashed in his mind and substituted for a less than exciting reality.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Kurt's eyes surveyed the room. Quinn's hair had been fluffed more time than a hotel pillow and Puck seemed to consider lunges the most important part of pre-performance warm up. Kurt sighed.

"We're going to graduate without Mr Schue ever realising were the stars of this club. I swear."

Mercedes groaned, playing with the hem of the dresses they'd been presented with. Kurt had wrinkled his nose and declared them 'fit for lining a dog's bed'. Travel to Sectionals had been interesting though. Rachel was scarily silent – for once – and Finn had sulked in the front seat, his head on his hand. Kurt had considered talking to him but his lip was curled and eyes were vacant so it hadn't seemed like a good idea.

"Guys and Girls," Mr Schue called suddenly, entering the green room with a pile of papers, "the reason we didn't have prior notice of our competition this year was apparently due to the fact that one of the clubs dropped out unexpectedly, which means... well, it means I can now tell you who you'll be competing against today."

"If it's Vocal Adrenaline, I'm gonna need something stronger than this water," Santana quipped, pursing her lips and leaning back in her chair with her perfectly plucked eyebrows to the ceiling.

Kurt glanced over at Rachel. Usually it was at moment such as these when she'd leap from her chair, address the entire club and assure them that '_in her experience...'_ and '_in the spirit of show business...'._ Instead, she sat still and reserved in her seat, her hand tightly fisted into the cheap taffeta skirt.

"Well, Santana, you'll be happy to hear that it's not Vocal Adrenaline this year," Puck and Artie high fived, "but if we win today we'll no doubt come across them at a later stage. Your competition this year comes from a group called The Hipsters, a senior citizen's day centre performance group and The Dalton Academy Warblers, an all male acapella group."

"Oh wait," Santana interjected, a smirk unmistakeably playing at her lips, "like a hundred awesome gay jokes just popped into my head." She sat back, clearly pleased with herself.

Kurt took a breath. It wasn't as if he expected anything less. Santana was a bitch – queen bitch – and her entire purpose in life was to attract attention, even if that meant flattening people in her wake. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Tina flash an angry glare in Santana's direction. It wouldn't help – it never did.

"Mr Schue," Brittany spoke up, her hand clasped in Artie's as they sat side by side, "what if I don't want to beat someone who could be my Grandpa? I'd feel bad and I don't like feeling bad when I dance."

The urge to roll his eyes came daily for Kurt but he resisted, instead glancing at Mercedes who did it for him. Mr Schue shuffled on his feet. "Well, Brittany, you're our star dancer and you're going to be incredible today. Just think of them as equals. They're not your Grandparents, they're our competition – just as Vocal Adrenaline were our competition last year."

"So, these Garbler dudes? They any good?" Puck asked from the back of the room.

"From what I hear, their vocals are exceptional and their front man never fails to impress so we need to be on our game, guys."

Kurt was barely listening. He didn't have a solo, he wasn't required to do much except keep in line with the dance moves and smile. Instead, Quinn and Sam were going to wow the crowd with their sickly sweet _blonde _ways in an attempt to resurrect the 80's classic, Dirty Dancing. Kurt chewed his lip, fighting back a wry laugh – there was nothing _dirty _about Quinn and Sam. They were vanilla – crystal perfect and too cute to stomach. They'd butcher the song and tear it from its original sassy connotations but they'd be unbearably endearing as they did so.

"Kurt?"

He glanced sideways as Rachel Berry's big brown eyes filled his vision. "Yes, Rachel?"

She took a steadying breath. "I'm going to get a bottle of water, would you like one?"

"I'm good, thanks."

She nodded to herself and, as if to say something, opened her mouth. Kurt caught the flash of insecurity in her eyes, the momentary smallness she pushed away as soon as it threatened for the surface. Kurt's chest tightened, knowing the deep place that look came from, the ache she must have felt in her chest in order to keep parts of herself from the world and from the people around her. Kurt watched her leave and frowned, knowing that the usual gleam in her eyes had disappeared.

As he leaned back once more, inspecting his fingernails, he wondered if he'd lost his spark and if he had, if anyone really cared.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

"Warblers!" Steady persistence was clearly Wes' aim. He surveyed the room crammed with navy and red. Banging the cheap plastic table with his gavel, a tinny and useless sound permeating the air, he groaned and slumped back into his chair. Blaine chuckled to himself as he watched the scene unfold. A small room of Warblers meant that silence was impossible.

"Having trouble?" Blaine asked with a smirk. It was met with a low growl from Wes. "Look, Sectionals is our first big competition of the year so you're going to have to excuse them all for being a little excited."

Wes flashed him a _look. _"We haven't got time to be excited, Blaine. We have all of the time in the world to be excited when we're back at Dalton and polishing our trophy."

Blaine's stomach clenched. He'd tried not to think about the fact that there was actual competition and by that there was a distinct chance that Kurt was in the same building as part of that competition. It had been playing on his mind for days since he'd received Kurt's letter about their rehearsals accompanied by a swatch of Kurt's new sewing task. He had quite a collection of swatches now and, as odd as it may have seemed to tohers, it seemed so inherently _Kurt _that Blaine felt a smile tease at his lips as he pinned them one by one around his pin board. Kurt _had_ said 'Sectionals' and they were both located in the same district so no matter how many times he'd tried to convince himself that being nervous was ridiculous, his brain had come back to the fact that, _yes, _Kurt would most likely, most definitely be in the same building.

Their letters had become one of the best parts of his week alongside Warbler practise and soccer. They were constant which was nice in a way – _reassuring_. They were slowly getting more acquainted with one another but in the best way possible.

Social conventions weren't necessary.

He didn't have to panic if he had food in his teeth or if his hair was out of place. He didn't have to see the shift in Kurt's face which indicated certain boredom (and he was sure some of his letters must have appeared that way!). They avoided awkward silences and small talk and instead had been given the greatest chance to get to know each other free of constraint and anxiety.

Blaine smiled as Wes shuffled beside him. They were all somewhat tense and overwrought but, for some strange and unfathomable reason, Blaine felt a jolt of giddiness. It was like in movies. 'You've Got Mail' was one of his mom's favourites – her love for Tom Hanks transcending her teenage years – and now he was sure he was living through the exact same experience except without the awkward '_i think I love you but I don't know you'_ feelings and plus Kurt wasn't making him bankrupt or anything as ugly. They were friends who had no idea what colour hair the other had or how the timbre of the other's voice sounded.

The best part was simply that Kurt was becoming his friend in the coolest way imaginable. It was strange because of the slight anonymity they'd managed to retain meaning that Kurt quite possibly had failed to put two and two together to guess that the private school they were competing against was the same private school Blaine had been talking about for weeks. He'd been careful never to call them 'The Warblers' and he hadn't mentioned 'Dalton' or the fact they were attending a competition... Kurt had no idea.

Wes coughed loudly and hammered his fist on the plastic, clearly hitting his patience limit. "Warblers! We have ten minutes. Hush right now. I need someone to accompany Jeff to the bar to pick up the bottles of water we were promised."

Blaine jumped into life, heart suddenly hammering. This was his chance. "I'll go," he rushed, a little too quickly prompting a startled look from Jeff who was surely wondering if Blaine wanted him alone, "I mean, I really need water."

With Jeff reassured and Wes appeased, Blaine took a breath and left the room.

There was something thrilling about wandering a building with the knowledge that the guy you've known for weeks and who you've talked with and written to and sent little presents to and opened your heart a little to is somewhere in the mass of people loitering in the corridors but you have entirely no idea what he looks like.

"Hey bro, you're quiet. You ok?" Jeff asked, nudging his elbow to Blaine's.

"I'm fine. I guess I'm just psyching myself up." Without paying much attention to what he was saying, he kept his eyes on the crowds. It was obvious who The Hipsters were and Kurt was, without a doubt, not an old man... well, Blaine was ninety nine percent sure anyway, but still, families, friends and stage hands were littering the competitors so it was almost impossible to scan the room successfully.

As they reached the bar, Blaine slid into a seat next to Jeff and waited until the other guy at the bar had finished ordering.

He was tall with dark hair and built well. Blaine let his eyes linger a little on the guy's outfit – dark pants, black shirt, blue tie and soft sole shoes especially for stage wear. Knowing all that Kurt had written about – fashion, bondage website subscriptions, culture, his love of show tunes and his very specific disdain for creased clothing, Blaine's eyes lingered on the heavy crinkles in this guy's shirt and the fact he seemed to be staring at a girl's ass.

Definitely NOT Kurt.

"Yo, dude."

Blaine jumped a little, looking away as another guy approached. Staring up and down at another boy at a bar was a sure-fire shuttle car to a black eye in certain parts of Ohio. The other guy was tall too and sporting a crazy haircut. He was dressed identically to the guy at the bar and seemed to be trying to cheer him up with punches to his shoulder and back slaps – it all looked very masculine.

Blaine could feel his skin heat up in anticipation. This had to be one of the competing show choirs. Their heat was easier to wittle down if it wasn't for the fact that the second heat competitors were also present meaning that Kurt was a member of a potential three other groups.

Blaine let his mind cycle the words Kurt had written, the words he'd found himself reading a little too often to remind himself that there was someone else out there who was, at least, on the same wave length. Trying to paint a mental picture of Kurt from his words and the tone of his writing felt ludicrous but Kurt's words were always so bold, so bright, so harsh yet soft and sweet at times.

If it was based upon locating a personality in a room, Blaine was sure he'd be able to start making educated guesses but looks were impossible and, if truthful with himself, Blaine didn't care what Kurt looked like at all. It didn't make a difference.

"Just come back, Jewish girls are my speciality. I can read them like a book." Blaine watched the first guy frown, shooting a look in the Mohican guy's direction. Mohican guy backed off with his hands up in a truce. "Woah, dude. Not like that. I don't mean anything by it but look, the way I see it is you have two options. Sit here and be a pussy or come back with me and kick some granny and rich kid ass."

Rich kid. Blaine swallowed quickly, eyes blinking in slow realisation.

"I'm not coming back in there. She hates me. She started looking at me like girls do when they're gonna cry and I hate when they do that. It's as if they know you suck at emotions and stuff and you've got no tissues and all you can do is stand there like a loser and watch."

"Finn. Get a grip, dude."

Blaine coughed loudly, choking on his own breath. Finn. As in Finn, Kurt's brother, Finn? Jeff swivelled in his chair quickly.

"Don't choke before we have a chance to nail the other teams, bro!" he laughed, patting Blaine's back slightly. He passed him a bottle of water.

Blaine was elsewhere. He could feel his palms beginning to sweat, hands suddenly clinging to the bottle as if it were a life line holding him in the moment. Spontaneity and something magical seemed to be the fuel to the fire. It felt exciting and wonderful to hold no clues as to what the person you'd been letting yourself open up to looked like. The very fact that Kurt could walk by and he wouldn't know felt strangely amazing.

"Jeff, tell Wes I've seen someone I know. I'll meet you back in the green room, ok?"

Jeff nodded. "Sure thing. Just don't be late because, bro, you know how much Wes likes that hammer thing. I'd be worried if I got on the wrong side of him. Do some damage that thing could."

"Noted," Blaine drawled as Jeff winked and sauntered off.

He had a mission. Finn and the other guy had disappeared down the corridor and, hot on their heels, Blaine tried to train his eyes to the backs of their heads so as not to lose them in the bustling groups of families or teams of huddled students practising runs.

He wracked his brains. The other guy was the badass one but the name didn't come. He'd mentioned a girl as in 'she' had looked like she was going to cry. Kurt had mentioned that Finn had been with their star performer, the one who liked Barbra Streisand – Rachel? Maybe that was her.

They reached the end of the corridor and turned into a room, Finn choosing to sit opposite the open door by himself and the Mohawk guy seemed to slump by a guy in a wheelchair. It was Kurt's group, without a doubt. Blaine took a deep breath, nerves tingling along his skin.

Half of the room wasn't visible from outside the door and, in the interests of remaining incognito and out of eye line, Blaine stood against the opposite wall and allowed himself to glance with a racing heart every time anyone moved.

He could hear voices but nothing was too clear.

"But if we win, I just want to take them a gift basket though. They're old. I'll feel bad."

"Girl, we know they're a bunch of adorable old people but nobody's sending anybody a gift basket. If we win, we win on talent and they can just suck it up."

"Ya'll, what if that private school are, like, snobby and rich or something and they can afford a professional show choir coach or somethin'."

"Just because they're from a private school doesn't mean they're snobs. Way to go generalisation."

"Kurt's right you guys, we can't go dissing the competition without any reason. We're here to compete and win, not get up in their grills just because they're different. I mean, look at us."

Blaine gasped. _**Kurt.**_ It took a few slow moments where time dragged on in wait for an answer or for Kurt to reply.

He didn't.

"Are you coming or what?" Wes called down the corridor, face flushed and eyes somewhat wild. Blaine faultered for a moment. This was the opportunity to find out who Kurt was, to see him, look at him, watch him and at least put a face to the words he'd grown so fond of.

Wes had other ideas.

"Ok, I'm coming." Blaine sighed and took one last look into the green room hoping that by some miraculous twist of fate, Kurt would appear and he could relax into the day instead of allowing his frazzled nerves and the fizzy feelings in his stomach to subside.

He tried to spot him in the audience but it's a failed mission from the start as once the music begins, the beat so catchy and the guys behind him chiming in with the opening swell of notes, Blaine knew there was no way he was going to be able to concentrate.

The performance was stellar. Blaine bounced on the spot, knees so adept at popping to the beat and arms so skilfully in place until they didn't need to be, until they swayed and gestured to the words. The crowd's buzz was noticeable and by the end of the first number, Wes glanced over in his direction and smiled – smug and proud.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

"We're screwed."

Kurt twisted his lips, nodding in Mercedes' direction as she whispered by his side. It was tradition for the competing choirs to watch the other acts perform from the audience in order to foster some support for each other and promote a good natured camaraderie.

Whoever created such an idea needed to be slapped, Kurt thought.

It created fear in even the most confident of show choirs. Watching the people potentially able to shatter your dreams shimmy and shake to an adoring crowd was not ideal for confidence.

The only redeeming quality of the Dalton Academy Warblers was the fact is was an all male choir and well, Kurt sighed, shuffling a little and crossing his legs, the lead singer was gorgeous.

"He's quite something," Rachel whispered into his ear causing him to jump. As the music reached a crescendo and the choir lept to jump in time, arms waving and faces beaming with smiles, Kurt had to agree.

Their lead singer was incredible. The premise of preppy school boys in blazers ooing and ahhing to Top 40 tunes was one that Kurt had never considered to be winning. It was a little too Dead Poet's Society meets Fame but for some strange reason it worked and worked well.

He was kind of beautiful.

Kurt knew himself like. He'd never vocally swoon over a guy or let himself gush about someone in front of people. He hadn't been able to do it all his life; it had never felt natural and the fear of any repercussion was so worrying that it was just easier to keep it between himself and his own inner monologue but this guy was kind of breath taking.

"He is," Kurt sighed under his breath, afraid to look at Rachel, knowing she'd be sporting the biggest smug grin imaginable. She'd tried to talk boys with him before and god knows he remembered her offer to co-create the 'GayLesBall', but he'd never retaliated or given her any ammunition.

"I think it's the uniform. It's a well known fact that men in uniform are far superior through female eyes. The premise of many a legendary love story," she chimed with a smile.

It was impossible to avoid her enthusiasm. The boy on stage had eyes that could stun. They were wide and bright, the corners crinkling as he sang each syllable. They weren't in the front row or anything but they didn't need to be – this boy's heart was bare for all to see. He was short – noticeably so compared to the other boys in his group – but it didn't matter at all. His charisma and the cheeky wink he threw someone in the front row more than made up for his lack of height.

Kurt could feel himself swooning. It was impossible to stop. He'd never seen a guy quite so unashamedly alive on stage and capable of rendering someone of any gender speechless or questioning their sexuality. Watching Finn and Artie out of the corner of his eye cemented that fact – they were in awe.

It wasn't without frustration though. Boys like the one on stage just didn't exist in real life. He was no doubt a player with a dozen notches on his bed post or was probably and arrogant ass with an ego bigger than Mr Shue's vest collection. Kurt knew it wasn't healthy to wish himself straight but dreamy guys were never gay, they were never in high school and were never nice. It was just a reality he'd grown to accept.

Clasping his hands together, Kurt sighed, his head falling to the side, taking in the change in tempo of the group's second song. It was a more melancholy number with drawn out notes and rigid staging but the depth of the lead guy's voice and the strain in it as he pushed himself to the high notes was mesmerising. He clearly meant every single word he sang, his body tensing with passion and a kind of showmanship that couldn't be taught.

The boy's hands splayed a little by his sides as he sang, eyes closed and body moving with every single note. When he opened his eyes once more there was a noticeable truth in them. Kurt caught his breath. Mercedes was right - they were_ totally _done for.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Blaine could feel his heart in his fingertips. Something deep down said he was being pathetic, mooning over the fact he was going to see Kurt in real life when this boy was nothing other than a stranger. He was a random boy who simply happened to be gay and nice and understanding – not to mention funny and a little crazy.

He was only a boy.

When Wes extended his arm, motioning for the rest of The Warblers to take their seats in row F, Blaine swallowed, took a breath and told himself to stop being unhinged.

"They any good do you think?" Nick asked as the lights went down. Smiling slightly, Blaine shrugged.

"Guess we're about to see."

A spotlight swung to the back of the stage as the doors opened. The entire audience craned their necks to get a decent view. Blaine found himself repeating the names he could remember in his head, the members of Kurt's Glee club that had seemed so full of life and character just from his words.

The guy was blonde, the one who started to walk down the aisle, his eyes locked with a blonde girl who emerged in a sea blue dress with more ruffles than considered socially acceptable. Quinn and Sam. Kurt had described the dyed blonde hair at such a length – it had to be them.

Their voices were sweet together in a way. It wasn't anything spectacular but they were grinning so cutely at one another and harmonising so prettily that Blaine knew he'd feel bad if he found himself disliking them. Still, Dirty Dancing was a tough act to recreate.

It was as they reached the bottom of the steps that Blaine was sure he was going to throw up. His heart was hammering, palms slippery now and hands shaking. None of the mental arguments to himself had worked – he was so completely excited to see Kurt.

The stage flooded with a yellow light exposing a formation of boys and girls with their backs to the audience. With frantic eyes, Blaine scanned them all, noting Finn and the Mohawk guy and even spotting Mercedes – it had to be her. There was another guy to the right with dark hair. He was tall and slim, his hips jerking to the beat and hand tapping the rhythm expertly against his thigh. He was a possibility.

It was as if someone above was teasing him, keeping the revelation from him for just a second longer. He spotted Artie, the guy in the wheelchair, and then Rachel, the short brunette until his eyes found the only remaining guy in the group.

He was tall too but in proportion with chestnut hair. Blaine held his breath and waited for them to turn. Quinn and Sam met in the middle of the stage, their hands outsretched and giddy grins painted across their face. The air had grown thick with tension as they swirled and pouted around each other. Blaine felt as if the entire audience were interrupting a personal moment.

The entire club turned on mass, snaking their way forward until they met in a long row, all singing with a magnitude of power so unexpected that Blaine felt the audience flinch.

He kept his eyes on both boys. The tall guy with dark hair was Asian and danced like a dream. Blaine watched as he made his way past another Asian girl with pretty hair and the goofiest grin on her- Mike. He was Mike. He had to be. Kurt had described them as the proud Asian couple.

So that left...

Blaine let his eyes lock onto the guy with chestnut hair. It was then that he saw his face and everything seemed to make so much sense.

He was... well, Blaine couldn't quite pin the word. He was different. Gripping the arms of the seat, Blaine tried to regulate his breathing as Kurt smiled at Mercedes, his arms swaying and hips wiggling to the beat. The way he pursed his lips and widened his eyes in the cutest way was just about all Blaine could take.

So _this_ was Kurt.

As he swirled on the spot, fingers spread evenly with so much grace and the most elegant poise Blaine had ever seen on a guy in his life, Blaine watched as Kurt stopped singing in order for Quinn and Sam to finish the final verse. The lights were on the others now but Blaine couldn't tear his eyes away for a second.

Kurt was gorgeous. Not in a pervy kind of way. Blaine almost felt guilty for thinking it because that wasn't what their relationship was about – they were friends – but there was no other word for him. He was tall and slim with broadish shoulders and hips to die for. Blaine swallowed.

Surely it was a dream.

His hair. Even under the scorching stage lamps, every strand seemed to stay intact and unmoving even as the group began to dance in pairs, Kurt grinning as Mercedes swirled under his arm. They ended the number and Blaine had to dislodge his fingers from the arm rests. He didn't look away, eyes still trained on Kurt as the lights dimmed in preparation for their next number.

A pianist began to play from the back of the stage and the group assembled slowly in a zig zag formation to the music, swaying gently. It seemed that this was Rachel's solo. She was tiny, her hair hanging in loose curls over her shoulders, eyes wide and sparkling and an air of confidence which caused her to look vulnerable and untouchable all at once.

She looked like Kurt did – _strong._

Kurt stood tall, shoulders back and jaw aligned as he let his body move gently with each note so fluidly that Blaine felt himself shiver.

Blaine was sure and possibly more certain than he'd ever been about anything, that if he had no connection to Kurt whatsoever he'd still be unable to drag his focus away from him. There was something so entrancing in his eyes, the glitter of them against the glare of the spotlight and the way he seemed to move with fierce conviction. As Rachel's voice soared over the audience, causing goosebumps to form along Blaine's skin, he watched Kurt's poise slip for a second.

Kurt's eyes were no longer on a spot at the back of the auditorium - nor were they on Rachel. They were scanning the room, raking over everyone in the audience with a depth to them searching and a little forlorn.

It happened quickly and in a second. Blaine felt desperate.

They'd talked about their hopes and wishes, the things that made them sad, the best parts of their lives and they'd shared _stuff. _Nothing had become too in-depth and it had only been a matter of weeks since their first letter but their words weren't holding back the truth – it was evident that they'd progress to more open and potentially dangerous territory.

Something about the anonymity of a letter was crazy and wonderful but also, some nights when he thought about it, Blaine wondered if it was idiotic to prefer it. Did it make him weak because it felt easier to write than speak? Was he a coward? Did it mean that what he and Kurt shared was meaningless because it wasn't face to face? Could he be so... _himself _ if he was face to face with Kurt?

Regardless of any insecurity he'd had, Blaine was sure of one thing. The letters _meant _something.

Seeing Kurt just made it all seem perfectly real. He was a person, an actual boy with swooping chestnut hair and elfin ears, long fingers and wiggling hips, a sweet smile and eyes that sparkled. Their letters were real too. Every word was from Kurt's heart or close to it. Blaine was sure that _**he**_ was a little more prone to giving away more than was appropriate whereas Kurt seemed to keep himself on guard, his emotions seeping out only when necessary, but still, Kurt wrote back. He took time to sit down and reply – the fact he chose thoughtful or quirky gifts to include was just the icing on the cake.

The lights dimmed as the group huddled together, smiling and wooping for the audience. Kurt received a hug from Mercedes first and then Rachel who held tight and closed her eyes. Blaine watched as Kurt did the same, his arms squeezing for a fraction longer.

Whenever he'd mentioned Rachel, Kurt's sarcasm had bitten hardest but Blaine didn't see a smidgen of animosity or distance between them. Blaine knew then that the clipped sentences and snappy one-liners were inherently _Kurt _but they weren't necessarily a true reflection of how he felt – he was deflecting or keeping his own truth to himself.

"They were amazing, weren't they?" Nick asked as the entire row of Warblers rose to their feet, clapping enthusiastically.

It was all Blaine could do to wipe the lopsided grin off his face and manage a reply. "Yea, they were. Really amazing."

Kurt started to exit the stage then, his hands smoothing down his hips as his lips pursed once more. Frantic to keep drinking in every moment, Blaine kept his eyes resolute until Kurt disappeared behind the curtain.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

It wasn't long before the judges returned news that they'd reached their verdict. They'd had fifteen minutes to reassemble and line up on stage for the reveal, which in itself had been interesting. They'd tied – the New Directions (so _that_ was their name) and The Warblers. They were all happy and somewhat contented that New York was still a possibility for them all. Blaine watched as Wes punched the air, corrected himself and reinstated his air of propriety for the audience but offered a wink in David and Blaine's direction.

Blaine had scanned the stage for Kurt as the cheering died down but he was nowhere to be seen.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Santana and Rachel were arguing as Finn stared fascinated at a spot on the wall, clearly too spineless to put a stop to it and end the tension that existed in the room the entire time the entire club sat together. Kurt was sick of it. Not only did it make the competition process much more stressful, it put everyone on edge. Brittany and Artie had shared a disagreement and even Mike and Tina seemed less than their usual soppy selves. They were all so unprofessional sometimes.

Kurt just wanted to go home. He sighed and perused his nails for a moment in the corridor waiting for Mercedes to finish in the ladies room.

Blaine saw him. Nick and Jeff had decided they were so nervous they 'just might throw up' and Blaine had drawn the short straw to be their chaperone. It was a pain in the ass to always be the 'leader' of the group. It was as he stood leaning against the wall, leg bent and foot flat against the plaster that a group of girls moved along and Kurt had appeared looking downtrodden and entirely alone.

Blaine felt his fingers shake. He couldn't. No way. It was breaking every rule he was sure existed amongst letter writers as well as some of their own and plus it was cheating. Kurt had no idea who he was, he was just some guy from the competition, but Blaine knew and it felt wrong to trick Kurt in that way.

He wanted to though – badly.

It was the slight slump in Kurt's shoulders that seemed to spark a protective streak. He wanted to ask why Kurt was obviously down or irritated. Kurt kept stroking over his nails as he fanned his fingers in front of him, frowning as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone.

Blaine tried to listen, as much as he told himself it was rude and verging on stalkerish behaviour. He hadn't heard Kurt's voice yet.

"Hey Dad. Yea...yea it went well. I think. We're just waiting for the coach to arrive to bring us home... yes, I'll phone you as soon as we leave... he's fine... yea... i know... he's driving me insane, dad. They're both miserable and I'm staying out of it. Ok... I will. Yes, Dad. Yes. I know. Thank you. I'll see you later. Bye...yes... I know, dad. Love you."

Blaine smiled to himself, glancing down to the floor in case Kurt caught him staring. His voice was as clear as crystal and full of life. The way he'd snapped at his dad out of frustration then followed it up with the softest expression of affection spoken with gentle eyes – Blaine had to remind himself to breathe. Kurt was everything he expected and _so much more._

Looking back up to keep his eyes on the restroom door, Blaine jumped, his body turning rigid instantly as Kurt's eyes met his. He couldn't breathe. His heart had failed, he was sure of it. With a breath, Blaine smiled slowly and looked away. He knew he was blushing – he _never _blushed. As he inspected a worn out patch of carpet, Blaine could feel his heart beating throughout his entire body - hard and incredible.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

_Eyes to drown in._

Kurt rubbed his lips together and looked away with a flush to his cheeks – he knew it. The private school boy was so close and so handsome looking that it didn't seem fair.

After reading Vogue and appreciating the very height of men's fashion for most of his teenage life, Kurt couldn't help but be impressed with the way the boy pulled off a blazer and dress clothes. It was as if he was made to wear them – effortless but smart.

It was _shameless. _The polyester, and cheap _navy _polyester at that, still managed to look good as it fitted so well and stood out against the crisp white shirt and matching tie. Everything about the boy was _**so...**_

He knew he shouldn't look, shouldn't sneak a glance every now and then but Preppy boy was so dreamy. His hair was styled so neatly under what Kurt estimated as a truck load of gel and his eyes... his eyes...

"Sweets? Hey Kurt?"

He blinked rapidly at Mercedes, his eyes flickering to Preppy boy and realising that he'd clearly caught him staring. Preppy boy grinned to himself, bit his lip and looked away.

Kurt wasn't sure he had a protocol for such moments. He wasn't used to being smiled at in that way as most guys either looked straight through you like plain glass or looked but didn't really see. Preppy boy had looked – _really looked._

"Kurt."

He looked back to where Mercedes stood, hands on hips and eyebrows to the heavens.

"Sorry, I was somewhere else."

"Clearly," she sighed, rolling her eyes in the direction of the green room, "it still like World War three in there?"

Nodding, Kurt watched her slip inside, angling herself away from the continuing argument between Finn and Rachel. He allowed himself one more glance at Preppy boy but he was gone. Just like that.

It wasn't a surprise, not really. Delusion- that's what it was. He did this. Kurt knew he did. His brain ran away creating and concocting the most beautiful dreams. A single look transformed into a flirty glance which escalated to boyfriends and fast forwarded to picnics in the park and soft kisses in comfortable darkness. Sighing roughly and with enough force to rid himself of every pathetic romantic notion, he slotted on his game face and followed Mercedes into the madness.

**_~tbc_**


	4. Reflection

**Author's Notes:**

**_Oh you're all so sweet for all of the LOVELY feedback so far. I'm SO happy you like it so far. I know it's an odd concept and not everyone's cup of tea but I'm so pleased a lot of you seem to have to taken to it well. I adore writing it! _**

**_I really hope you like this Chapter. The next two Chapters are very heavy on the letters and it's for a reason so this one is another which is light on the letter side of things. I hope you'll see that it makes sense to do it like this– and I'm sorry in advance for the teasing ;)  
>I like to think of this one as 'the one where Kurt's oblivious and Blaine's ridiculous' : )<em>**

* * *

><p>"Hey guys," Blaine called, lowering his bag onto the floor and sliding in beside Wes as a bread roll was placed on the plate beside him.<p>

Mouthing a 'thank you' to the lunch assistant, he turned back to Nick, Jeff, Thad, David and Wes who had waved a quick hello – Jeff winking – and returned to their set list discussion. Sectionals had gone straight to their heads and the plan to 'overthrow the New Directions' in the most respectful manner was currently underway.

Blaine rolled his eyes, his hand clutching the letter in his hand that he'd been putting off reading since he'd left home. "Bro, you ok?" Jeff asked, passing the butter.

"I'm good, thanks."

Nodding, Jeff sighed. "Don't get sucked in. I heard Thad suggest a change in uniform and I seriously thought Wes' eyes were going to burst. Like, pop out of his head. Scary stuff, dude."

"Duly noted."

Blaine smiled. He liked Jeff mainly for the fact he was a breath of fresh air in a school full of the private school stereotypes. The Warblers attracted a range of guys but Jeff was so laid back and well, cool, that Blaine seemed to gravitate towards him more than the others. It also helped that Jeff didn't seem to give a damn in any way shape or form that Blaine liked boys – he seemed to be the only guy in The Warblers who actively tried to talk about boys and find a way to connect.

"So what's this?" Jeff asked, pointing to the envelope on Blaine's knee.

Blaine swallowed hard, his eyes averting to his sandwich. "Just a letter from a friend."

"Oh a _friend,"_ Jeff sang, eyebrows wiggling, "and would this _friend _happen to be a boy?"

Here it was. Blaine sighed with a smirk – Jeff really was difficult to resist. "Yes. What about it?"

Jeff clapped his hands together. "Does this _boy _play for your team?"

"He does '_play for my team', _yes," Blaine drawled, laboring the crassness of Jeff's comment but accompanied it with a smile. He lowered his voice a little. "It's just this letter writing thing a local charity set up. Lame, I know, but it's pretty cool because we seem to have a lot in common so I guess that's something."

"So, have you guys, like swapped photos or anything?"

Blaine swallowed his mouthful of food before speaking. "No, nothing like that. We just... talk."

"Talk about gay stuff?"

"Wow, Jeff. No. Well, yes and no. There's a lot more to me than just _gay stuff _you know?"

While waving his hands in front of his face to make his point, Jeff gasped. "Woah dude, not what I meant at all. I meant do you talk about _that _ stuff because you have that in common and Dalton's not exactly your gay utopia, is it? No matter what all the losers on the outside may think."

Blaine had to laugh. It was true – a lot of people saw the 'all boys' label and fell convinced that every kid was secretly _**at it **_in late night rendezvous' in the dorm rooms.

"We talk about, as you so gently put it, _gay stuff _but mainly we just talk about our lives and share stories. It's nice. You ever...? I mean, have you ever written to someone before?"

"I sent Nick a note in French this morning scribbled on the back of my lunch pass asking him to move his enormous head out of the way of the board. That count?"

Chuckling, Blaine shook his head. "No, moron. I'm talking about real letters."

"Well then, no. I can't read my own handwriting so I don't know why I'd want to inflict that on someone else. Know what I mean?"

"Yes, well, it's just it's different to having a normal conversation. It's more personal and it's so lost in modern society. I really like it. I didn't think I would but it's nice to be able to skip all of the pointless stuff that gets in the way in real life."

"Like what?" Jeff asked, stuffing what appeared to be fifteen fries in his mouth at once.

"Like social interaction stuff. When you talk to someone and you feel nervous because they might think you're weird or you remember half way through a conversation that you had onions with your lunch and you probably smell gross or the fact that you have to make small talk until a gap in the conversation leads to something more serious. That kind of stuff."

Jeff nodded, swallowing down his food with half a can of Diet Coke. "So you talk about serious stuff right away? What happens if he's some middle aged creepo doing that grooming thing... you can't be too careful nowadays, Blaine."

With a half choked laugh, Blaine rolled his eyes. "Thanks mom, but I know he's not some middle aged... _creepo._ I've um," he swallowed, looking away, "seen him. Kind of."

Jeff's eyes widened. "Thought you said you hadn't met him!"

"I haven't. Not really. It's just he was um, he's a member of the New Directions." Blaine lowered his voice more, painfully aware of Wes' master plans involving the said Glee Club and knowing he'd take full advantage of Blaine's little bit of insight if he could.

"He's not that badass Mohawk dude is he because, damn, he was kinda hot. You know, if you're into that kind of thing. Are you? Is he your type?"

Blaine took a breath. There wasn't even an appropriate place to begin when responding to something like that. "No, it's not him. He's called Noah or Puck. I think he prefers Puck – Kurt told me-"

"Kurt? The one with the _hair?" _Jeff mimicked a swooping motion over his head.

"Yes. That's Kurt. He's the one."

"He looked like a pixie. A cute pixie," Jeff said simply, smiling, "and he had a nice smile."

It wasn't normal to talk in such a way. Blaine took a breath, his brow wrinkling as he watched Jeff swig more Coke as if he was in the middle of the most normal conversation of his life. Blaine hadn't done this. He hadn't ever opened up to any of The Warblers about boys or about more than what was considered normal for the other guys. They talked sports and music and movies but never crossed the boundary into personal lives _unless _it was about girls and even then it was touched upon lightly and the culprit was left alone.

"Do you think so?"

Jeff smiled, winking. "You _totally _thought so too, didn't you?"

Blaine was sure he was blushing. He definitely was. "We're friends, Jeff, and he didn't know who I was anyway but, yes, he has a nice smile."

"Wait, so you knew who he was but he didn't know who you were? How does that work?"

Taking a final bit of his sandwich, Blaine sat forward, his chin on his hand, and explained.

"So, you told him we weren't competing and then you made eye contact and he had no idea who he was looking at?"

Thinking about it, it sounded terribly sneaky. It was a little awkward but it had been so necessary.

"I know it sounds bad," Blaine began, his hands finding each other under the table now, "but I just didn't want to ruin what we had going. I like writing to him and I like the fact there isn't all of the drama you get in real life. I don't want him to see me and be disappointed or for me to not live up to what I appear on page, which isn't exactly wonderful anyways. I mean, I don't want to have that moment where it's obvious that we should have stayed pen pals and never crossed the boundary into face to face contact. It can ruin so much. I'm not crippled with insecurity but I didn't want to risk it. Not yet. I wanted to keep it the way it was and I know I might not have that right to decide but I really wanted to try."

Jeff took in every word, his brow creased in thought. "I get what you mean but are you not worried about what he'd say if he ever found out that the guy fronting their competition, the guy he's going to compete against again at Regionals, don't forget, is also the same guy he's been pouring his heart out to for weeks?" It sounded awful. Blaine knew it, but he also knew Kurt and Kurt understood their situation. If it ever reached a point where meeting was an option, Blaine knew he'd explain and he'd have to have faith that it'd go down ok. "So have you had a letter from him since the competition?"

Blaine let his eyes flicker down to the envelope in his hands. "Exhibit A."

"Oh my god, what if he talks about you but doesn't know it's you but you know it was him and you know he didn't know but he doesn't know any of it?"

Laughing, Blaine folded his napkin. He paused for a second, sliding the envelope back into his bag. It wasn't the time or place.

"I doubt he'd talk about me. I only looked in his direction. There were crowds of people there, not to mention, his Glee Club looked pretty strained. Don't tell Wes though – you know what he's like – he'd try to find their weakness and run with it."

Jeff motioned his locked lips and grinned. "You're still coming tonight, right? Party at Nick's? His mom's definitely out of town and you missed the last Warbler party so I'm not really asking so much as informing you, Blaine Anderson. I'll drag yo' ass there if I have to."

Standing up and sliding his bag back over his shoulder, Blaine smiled softly. "Only if you promise to keep what we spoke about, to yourself?"

"Consider it taken to my grave, oh great leader," Jeff quipped, smirking and forming the Star Trek sign with his right hand, "and have fun with erm, well, you know..."

Blaine laughed to himself as he left the cafeteria. He headed to the library and found a spot in one of the nooks with comfier chairs. He'd been putting it off all morning but it had to be done. Sliding the envelope out of his bag and slowly tearing the paper, he felt nervous. It wasn't like Kurt knew who he was but still, the dynamic had changed. Reading Kurt's words was going to be different. He had a face, a voice, a sense of person now and it was so much more personal and so much more intimate in a way. Blaine could _see _Kurt in the clothes he'd write about, could _imagine _every moment he described and could put faces to the many characters in Kurt's life now. It all seemed that little bit more... real. With a deep breath, he slid out the letter and began to read.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

**Dear Blaine,**

**I have so much to tell you. I feel bad for not writing sooner but things have been crazy at home. Finn is a nightmare- seriously he's a three year old in an abnormally large teenage boy's body. He needs to sort out his mess of a relationship with Rachel before Santana claws out her eyes with her fake nails or Quinn bitch glares her to death. Even Puck threatened to take a hammer to Finn's Xbox if he didn't 'man up' – Finn's face. I think that was the only thing that actually got through to him!**

**Anyway... the competition. You said you wanted to know everything so I'll provide the slimmed down version. We tied with another group – that is it. To be honest, not much happened to speak of EXCEPT this one thing...**

**I've told you before that I haven't had a boyfriend before, haven't I? Well, I haven't. Tragic, huh? I don't talk about it anyone – especially not the New Directions as they're all permanently on heat and in and out of each other's bedrooms (classy!) – because it's embarrassing really. I don't talk about boys much either. You said you had the same problem so I thought we could be that for each other – you know? Like, in those sickening teenage movies when the characters will put their pajamas on and socks and grab a pint of ice cream (sharing the spoon of course) and talk all night about boys and lady bits and – well, we don't have to talk about lady bits but I think I'd like it if we could talk about boys.**

**The REASON I'm bringing this up is because the only redeeming feature of Sectionals (and believe me, it was a painfully long and tedious day) was this guy from one of the competing schools. It made me think of you actually as they were a private school too – The Dalton Academy Warblers. Have you heard of them?**

**Blaine, you should have seen him. Talk about dreamy. Ok, I'll try and describe him for you so you can close your eyes and picture him yourself.**

**He was short, but not awkward short. It suited him. It didn't matter though because when he performed – oh. My. God. He was amazing. I didn't look away once and could barely remember my own name when he sang he was THAT good. I think it was his passion – and if there's one thing I respect it's passion for what you love.**

**He was dreamy – have I mentioned that yet? He needed some serious direction on his hair because, well, I could have greased a pan with his head but he was so smooth and charming and I DIDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM. It was just the way he seemed. So effortless and contained and oh dear god, so gorgeous.**

**His eyes. They were a soft hazel color (I think but I didn't get too close) but there was something about them, a kind of glow or warmth to them. To most people I think he'd have seemed too untouchable because he was so smart and preppy and handsome but his eyes were like the windows to his soul. I got to look into them directly once and oh god, Blaine, I swear, he was so gorgeous.**

**He smiled at me too. I know, I'm tragic – heaven knows, I get that he has no doubt got a girlfriend with legs to sacrifice yourself for and he'd never look twice at me no matter how much on season McQueen I was wearing but he was still... spectacular. **

**I love moments like that when you see someone or meet someone (and believe me, it doesn't happen a lot to me) that is so exactly what you didn't realize you wanted. I felt drawn to him because of how pristine he looked. I'll never see him again of course but still, it was a nice moment. **

**The****truth****is****, I don't often feel those raging teenage hormonal feelings – the ones that make you do crazy things. Maybe I've suppressed them through experience of my incestuous Glee club or through the knowledge that I'll never get to act on them – or not for a long time anyway – but this boy was like something from an old movie with Cary Grant or Katherine Hepburn. He was so traditional and quiet but with eyes full of soul and a voice to die for. I don't meet guys much, so he was the best thing about my day.**

**You're bored now, aren't you? You're slowly tearing this up into little pieces and you're going to run a mile and never speak to me again – aren't you?**

**PLEASE DON'T! I promise I'm nice. I'm not a loner who stalks pretty boys but I didn't have anyone to talk to about him and I needed to. My diary doesn't talk back.**

**I like writing to you – it's so exciting when I get one of your letters because I never know what to expect. **

**I hope you're doing ok. How are things with you and your dad? I hope all of your rehearsals went well. It's all about the preparation – hell, that's a lesson our Glee club needs to learn and fast.**

**We're on a short break from school so I work in my dad's garage. Yes. I. Work. In. A. Garage. You don't know what I look like or anything but, let me tell you, I'm not the kind people expect to see in overalls. **

**I overcame that little hurdle early and having a dad as a mechanic really worked in my favor. I'm so good with cars. Breaking the stereotype! *high five* My overalls are custom though and the product of half a week spent slaving in front of my sewing machine but if you're going to be working all day with grease and oil – you better look damn good doing it. I try.**

**Anyway, I work for my dad. I guess it's nice because we don't get a lot of time to spend together (I told you about the 'Kurt goes butch' moment from last year didn't I?) and I think he likes it when we find something we can both share, even if that means bleaching my fingernails every evening.**

**You're so bored now aren't you?**

**Before I run the risk of never hearing from you again, I'll end my letter. You said that you didn't think you were exciting and you sounded boring...**

**I JUST WROTE YOU A LETTER ENTIRELY BASED ON MY LESS THAN FIVE MINUTE ENCOUNTER WITH A RANDOM BOY I DON'T KNOW AND MY CUSTOM MADE OVERALLS.**

**Beat that, Blaine!**

**Kurt : )**

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Blaine couldn't move.

It couldn't be... It wasn't...

He re-read the letter three times, pondering the same words and phrases over and over until his heart died down and hands stopped shaking.

Kurt was talking about _his _blazer, _his _eyes and _his _voice. It took far too long for Kurt's words and, most importantly, the meaning behind them to sink in properly, causing his skin to shiver. Nobody had said things even remotely as sweet before. Taking a deep breath, Blaine read it again.

The words weren't only sweet, they were seriously... well, seriously overwhelming. Kurt thought he was _dreamy. _It was customary to be labelled as handsome by your mom, which Blaine was, but to be described that way by another boy was just wonderful and terrifying all at once.

Kurt wasn't used to saying such things – that much was obvious – but that was the thing that made it that little bit more mind-blowing. Kurt trusted him; he felt able to write those things down and confide in him with something that he didn't dare say to anyone else.

It was then that something changed. Blaine closed his eyes, his palms beginning to sweat and breathing stuttering as he pushed the letter back inside his bag. He'd lied to Kurt. He'd stood there knowing exactly who he was and hadn't said a thing. It had been acceptable and Blaine knew he had such good reasons for doing it but now everything had changed.

As amazing as Kurt's words were and as hard to grasp, they were also thinning the line between what they could be and they just didn't know each other well enough. If Kurt found out, knowing how much he obviously entrusted something so personal in Blaine's hands, he'd be upset and would no doubt stop writing altogether.

Blaine didn't even realize that he was outside and in his car until the radio started playing something loud and obnoxious. With a jab to turn on his CD player, Blaine took a breath as soft piano music filled the enclosed space. He sat there, unmoving, until afternoon classes began.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

"Dad? Coffee?" Kurt called from the office, his hands slotted inside the pockets of his overalls. McKinley High were clearly a little luckier than other schools in that their short break had seemed to coincide with a period of hot, sticky weather. Not one to wear revealing clothes or stay in the sun too long, Kurt hadn't so much as batted an eyelash at the heat, but knew it was good business for Hummel Tirea & Lube, so he was happy.

Burt Hummel was stressed. The hot weather meant that people had bothered to bring their cars in, had made the effort to make the trip to the garage and had booked in full services which clearly left them busy, booked up and completely snowed under. There was a lot more work than there were staff so Kurt had pressed his overalls and cleared his schedule except for a Grey's Anatomy marathon on Friday evening with Mercedes.

"Kurt? Can I erm, help or something?" Finn asked from the door of the office as Kurt stirred Burt's coffee.

"Finn," he said simply, approaching the subject with caution, "this morning in the space of two minutes you managed to knock over the tool rack _and _the used oil drum. It took me an hour to clean up and re-organize and do you have any idea how difficult it is to get oil out of denim?"

Finn chewed his lip and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "There was a bee."

Kurt, failing to find appropriate words, rolled his eyes. "There are a lot of bees, Finn, as I'm not sure if you've realized but it's about a million degrees outside. I can't trust you not to trip over your size tens and break something else."

"Dude, I'm only trying to help."

Kurt sighed and turned, leaning against the desk. "Ok. I'm sorry. Just go ask my dad, I'm sure he can find something for you to do that doesn't involve actually going near any of the cars."

"Awesome!" Finn smiled, lopsided and full of it before disappearing out of the doorway. Kurt had to smile.

"Hey, Kurt! Kurt, get out here a second."

"Yes, Dad?" Kurt called back, slipping out of the office, coffee in hand, to come face to face with a customer. Burt signaled to him.

"Serve this customer would you? I've got a ton of grease on me."

With a fake smile and a deep breath, Kurt turned to grab a pen. "Can I help you?"

The man was short, his hair dark and specifically cut – Kurt noticed it immediately. His suit was expensive looking – Kurt guessed Armani – and tailored to fit exactly.

"I was looking for some help with my car. It makes a screeching noise as in a loud pitch squeak when you start the engine and sometimes during driving. I need to have it looked at as soon as possible as I'm making a trip in a few weeks with my family and don't want it to cost us our vacation."

Kurt nodded, scribbling a few notes on the pad by the phone as his mind raced. "Dad?" Burt looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Screeching on start up? Alternator belt?"

With a half smile, Burt nodded. "Spot on, kid. Book him in for tomorrow afternoon. Pete can do that 'cause that guy who came in this morning called to cancel."

Kurt turned back to the gentleman and smiled politely. "We'd be happy to fit you in Mr...?"

"Anderson. William Anderson."

"Mr Anderson. No problem. How does two thirty tomorrow sound?"

Kurt ended the transaction, taking the details and watched as the guy left the garage through the far door. He laughed to himself at the stark difference between the men in the garage and a guy in an Armani suit; he looked so out of place, so stiff like a stuffed shirt in a room full of men who considered an oil smear an accessory.

"All sorted, kid?" Burt asked, throwing a filthy rag over his shoulder with a grin. He was always proud when Kurt worked alongside him – Kurt knew that smile. It said so much.

Reaching out to pat Burt's shoulder gently, Kurt grinned back. "As always Dad, as always."

The sound of Burt's amusement echoed behind him as Kurt returned to finish the books – his handwriting was neatest after all.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

The room was spinning. It had been a bad idea – a very, very, very bad idea. It was all Jeff's fault. Jeff with the stupid blonde hair and stupid fringe and stupid way of being nice. It was his stupid punch and his stupid idea to drink it but it was Nick's stupid house – Nick was to blame too, obviously.

"Blaine! Blaine! Dude, we're gonna do Silly Love Songs. Thad wants to impress this girl. Come on, we need you, brother."

Blaine could hear the words, he just wasn't all too sure he was in the room, on the planet or even if he existed. He swallowed and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand once as Nick swam into view with two heads.

"Nick, you're double. You're two." He could hear himself and it wasn't pretty. The room was quite full; girls were mingled with boys dancing and drinking and laughing. It was loud too but Blaine had been talking to Jeff and then Wes and Jeff again but then it went fuzzy and he wasn't too sure what his last name was.

"Blaine." That was Jeff. "Bro, let's get you some water."

"Water's good," he croaked as Jeff's luminous head popped into view. Smiling, Blaine allowed himself to be led into the kitchen. He wasn't too drunk, he was simply tipsy and tired – a terrible combination.

"Dude, you're not yourself. What's up?" Jeff asked, thrusting a glass of water into Blaine's hand, the condensation trickling haphazardly down Blaine's fingers. He drank before he talked.

"He said I was dreamy."

The sound of Jeff's laugh felt like a gun shot. "Who did? Kurt? As in _your Kurt?_"

Blaine scoffed as he swallowed, half choking. He felt unkempt. Messy. "He's not _my Kurt. _He's just Kurt and he thinks I'm dreamy and he's going to hate me. Nobody has called me dreamy before."

"Blaine, dude. We're friends, right?" Jeff asked, leaning against the counter too.

"Yes."

"Ok. So when I say this you'll know I'm saying it because we're friends. Blaine, my sister has had a crush on you for most of her teenage years. She thinks you're the cutest guy she's ever set eyes on – her words not mine – and man, you see girls turn their heads when you perform. Believe me, you've been called way more than dreamy. You just don't see it."

"Nobody means it. I call Brad Pitt dreamy but it doesn't mean I really feel it and have a connection there. He's just handsome. Kurt said he saw my soul. He doesn't even know who I am. That's kind of amazing to me."

Jeff chuckled, slapping Blaine's back. "Dude, it's great. So he likes you?"

"Jeff. He doesn't know it was me, remember? He likes preppy guy with the gel in his hair who apparently has nice eyes and is... oh my god he called me gorgeous. He used that specific word."

Blaine could feel his heart ready to burst. He'd been desperate to hear another guy say something like that – or even something close to it. The daydream of being found desirable in any way shape or form was one he'd experienced much too often and it seemed that a cute guy with swooping hair and wiggly hips and a great voice who wore amazing clothes and sang and liked pressed flowers and show tunes thought he was gorgeous and dreamy and oh god...

"Blaine, are you ok?"

"I need to tell him," he sighed out, his heart suddenly beating too fast, "I need to tell him I'm me, I mean, he's me and I need to say sorry for being such a coward."

Blaine closed his eyes as Jeff went to refill the glass of water. He had only drank alcohol once or twice before and it was only a couple but things weren't right. He was confused - so confused.

"Do you just want to sleep? I can go ask Nick if you can sleep in the guest bed instead of down here with the rest of the Warblers. You don't look good, bro."

Blaine knew he'd nodded but he couldn't remember the stairs or the blankets or the darkness appearing but it had happened anyway. He snuggled the blanket closer to this face, pressing his nose into the soft fabric and breathing in the scent of detergent. In an attempt to try and remember the last time he'd been hugged – no, cuddled – he struggled and pulled the blankets tighter. He liked cuddles, liked the feel of someone so close and entirely wrapped tight. He'd never experienced a proper cuddle though – the kind that meant something spectacular. Lying in the dark, alone and without someone to just explain what the hell to do, felt pathetic.

Life had simply coasted on for too long. He had bursting moments of joy with the Warblers and academic achievement but inside he felt bland, boring and completely stuck in a rut. Nothing was challenging anymore, nothing was exciting and for the first time in his life, something was alive and messy and ridiculous.

Reading Kurt's words had been scary and new but it had also sent butterflies fluttering every which way, meaning only one thing – he was doomed. He didn't know Kurt, not really, but then again, Kurt didn't know him but there was _something _there. Kurt had seen his soul – he'd said so – and he'd liked what he'd seen. Knowing that Kurt was just as lonely and just as capable of loving was one thing but he was also missing the person to whom he could give that love.

Blaine knew that some naive and impulsive part of him wanted so badly to be that person.

Before he knew what he was doing, Blaine crawled from beneath the blankets and found the computer desk on the opposite side of the room. It was spinning a little but he could make out the drawers and managed to find a pen and a sheet of white paper. Envelopes were stacked neatly by a closed laptop. He sat on the looming leather chair, his feet tucked under him, and wrote until his eyes started to close.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

"So, kiddo, how's that letter writing thing going?"

Kurt peered over the hood of Mr Anderson's car. He'd dropped it off and sat in the waiting area as Pete talked Kurt through the procedure. It was relatively simple.

"It's fine, dad. I write, he writes. Simple as that."

Burt leaned on the counter, his hands deftly rearranging an oil covered fitting. "So, this other kid. What's he like?"

Kurt smiled, sitting softly on a stool beside the car as Pete took over. Kurt wiped his hands on a cloth near-by. "He's nice. He's in a Glee club like me, which is great because we share something. He lives not too far away and goes to private school. We have quite a lot in common, actually."

"It's good you got someone to talk to. I like that."

Kurt watched as Burt tampered with a screw, his eyes in full concentration, and smiled. He knew that every word his dad spoke was the truth.

"Dad, can I ask you something?"

Burt glanced up momentarily. "Go ahead, kiddo."

Swallowing, Kurt rubbed his lips together in thought. There was no way to ever broach sensitive subjects with parents. "Do you think it's weird that I write these letters? I mean, Mercedes seemed to think I should be able to talk to the people around me but I don't know... Blaine's letters are just..."

Placing the part on the counter, Burt folded his arms over his chest. "Kurt, you said it yourself, these letters mean something to you. I don't think that's a bad thing. Unless, you know? I mean, it's all legit, right? There's no way this kid could be some serial killer?"

Kurt spat out a laugh, shaking his head. "No Dad, PFLAG are very careful to look into people before they agree to allow you to do it. Blaine's not a serial killer. He's just a kid like me."

"Ok, so why the questions? Why are you asking me about it when you've already said you like writing to this kid?"

Kurt took a moment to think. He didn't see anything wrong with it. Yes, he wondered if he was possibly lacking in social skills so some sort of alarm bell should have been ringing to tell him he needed help but he knew he wasn't – he was fine. Blaine's letters and knowing someone else was there to talk to and that that person was never going to judge, was reassuring and so comforting. Not to mention the fact that Blaine was sweet, he was funny and they shared so many interests.

"I don't know why. I wanted to know what you thought. If, maybe, you thought it was weird. I don't. I like writing to Blaine. He's um, well, he's _nice."_

Burt smiled, his eyes focused on Kurt's. "Kid, you don't have a lot of nice in your life what with the problems at school and I know it's not all sunshine and rainbows so if this kid makes you happy, girl or boy, letters or in person, I say there's no problem. Ok?"

Kurt smiled, humming a little as he nodded. "Ok. Thanks Dad."

"Anytime Kurt, you know that, now pass Pete that wrench so we can get Richie Rich sent on his way."

As they finished up, Kurt patted the hood lovingly. There was nothing quite like the satisfaction of finishing a job. He began to hum to himself, singing quietly under his breath as he polished wherever he or Pete had touched. He didn't realize Mr Anderson had entered the garage until he looked up, wondering why he'd suddenly been left alone. It was clearly break time.

"Oh Mr Anderson, you car is ready. I just need to ask you to fill in some paperwork, if that's ok?" The man nodded, his arms stiff and frame locked. Kurt couldn't help but feel a little odd in his presence, like he should have showered and put together his best and most conservative outfit in order to impress. "And I'm sorry I was distracted for a moment. I always seem to sing as I work. It passes the time. Dad always tells me to tone it down but I forget sometimes."

Mr Anderson smiled slightly as he signed the papers. He passed the top sheet to Kurt as he spoke. "My son does the same. He sings too and seemed to enjoy it around the house. He doesn't do it as often now, but he's a performer so I sympathize with your father."

Mr Anderson's eyes crinkled as he spoke about his son, an attribute Kurt recognized instantly. He seemed far away and deep in thought.

"My dad always says that Glee Club's my life. I guess he'd be right. I do commit a lot of time to it so singing comes naturally."

"Yes, Blaine's the same. Sorry, my _**son's**_ the same. He's in a group quite similar I think."

Kurt stopped mid word, his eyes finding Mr Anderson's and lingering. He couldn't quite move. "Your son's name is Blaine?"

Frowning slightly, Mr Anderson turned noticeably rigid. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

Kurt could feel his heart beating in his fingers, the blood rushing through his body too fast and too heady around his heart. "I just know someone called Blaine, that's all. It's a rare name."

Kurt struggled to hold the pen for his shaking fingers. He laughed nervously, fumbling with his own fingers as he offered the paper for Mr Anderson to sign.

"Yes, his mother liked it. She always wanted him to stand out from the crowd," Kurt saw the man's eyes flicker for a second, "and I guess she got her wish."

Kurt swallowed hard and tried to regulate his breathing. He knew he was cheating, he knew he was breaking the rules that they'd both set but it had to be the same Blaine... _his _Blaine, kind of. There was no harm in asking. It wouldn't make any difference but something made him speak the words, something compelled him to ask because it felt necessary. It felt important.

"So, you said he was a member of a Glee Club too. Do you mind me asking which one, it's just we compete against so many, I may have met him."

"Oh yes. They're the Dalton Academy Warblers."

**~ tbc**

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry. I know, I know. It's a cruel place to stop but as I'm off on adventures to London for Glee Live, I won't be able to update until Monday but I promise an update then! I hope you liked it! ; )<strong>


	5. Silence

**Author's Notes:  
><strong>**_THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING SO PATIENT! I know I promised Monday but I was travelling all day Monday back from London in a heatwave on a coach without AC. NOT pleasant! I was so tired after my adventures that I fell right to sleep BUT they were all so damn worth it. Second row at the O2 Arena and being blown a kiss by Mr Darren Criss when he noticed my geeky Darren-esque necklace was worth so much more! (__see my tumblr__– link in my profile - for the complete and utter ridiculousness from that night). Twas magical and awesome._**

**I hope you like this Chapter! It is a teeny bit shorter but I had to cut it here for a reason!**  
><strong>I had THE BEST fun reading your comments from the last Chapter. I'm sorry for being cruel, a tease and any other adjective you guys used ;) SO happy you like the story. Thank you SO much for your LOVELY comments and messages.<strong>  
><strong>All will become clearer in the next Chapter if you have any unanswered questions - tis time for some more miscommunication *rubs hands devilishly*<strong>

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

The clinical stench in the air was beginning to sting the back of Kurt's throat as he took another shuddering breath and told himself he couldn't cry. Crying was pointless and useless.

He could feel himself withering, his outside so strong and reinforced against the many weapons the world seemed to aim in his direction, but the inside was crumbling and it would only take a couple of words – words he knew would break him – to cause him to fall to pieces.

"Sweetheart, can I get you anything?" Carole asked for the hundredth time. It wasn't her fault. Kurt knew that but he shook his head without a word and frowned. There wasn't time for small talk or politeness.

Finn shuffled beside him, his sneakers squeaking on the plastic flooring. Kurt curled in on himself further, his hands clasped tight on his lap. Machines beeped, doctors walked purposefully by and families made their way – bags of grapes and bunches of flowers in hand – to visit their loved ones.

Kurt swallowed thickly and pressed his lips together. He'd be able to do the same soon. He'd make a batch of cookies – the ones his dad loved so much – and some homemade lemonade and he'd bring them in. It'd be fine.

Finn placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder and just let it rest there for a moment. Kurt wanted to move. He wanted to shift away from the touch, to scowl and bark at Finn that he was 'fine', that he didn't need to be treated like a child but he didn't move. He didn't acknowledge the touch either – he just sat.

"He's going to be fine, Kurt. I know he will." Silence took over as Finn sighed and placed his hands back on his knees.

Kurt closed his eyes, the wetness pooling along his lashes, and waited.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Two weeks was a long time.

After a couple more Friday dinners in the presence of more than one corporate douchebag and spending an evening with Wes and David and their sickeningly attractive girlfriends, Blaine was ready to snap. Work had piled up to a menacing amount, Warblers practice was a little lighter than usual as exams loomed and the mailbox was empty every morning.

Kurt hadn't replied.

Blaine threw himself down on the couch and jabbed the remote prompting the TV to flash alive. With a sigh, he found a music channel and closed his eyes to the sound of low and melodic drums. It felt good to just _sit _and _be _but that was it – everything else felt like a mess.

He was drowning in work he could barely keep up with and his brain, clouded with thinly veiled stress, had almost given up the previous day at his father's mention of the company lawyer's offer to take his daughter out to 'show her a good time'. Blaine had groaned and rolled his eyes with a short but polite reminder that a teenage girl wasn't within his realm of interest but nothing had made an impact. The curt nod his father had offered alongside the fakest and stiffest smile Blaine was sure he'd ever seen, were just typical. Nothing was going to change.

To top it off, Kurt hated him.

It was obvious.

Waking up in Nick's spare bedroom had been interesting and shame inducing but at the point a headache kicked in, so did the dawning realisation that there'd been letter writing and, worse of all, letter sending. Blaine knew, as he had drank water from the tap to attempt to slow his racing heart, that he couldn't remember a single thing he'd written but somehow the stamps from his wallet were gone and Kurt was never going to write back again.

Two weeks later and nothing had changed. Jeff had quizzed him the day after asking 'how's your cute pixie?" to which he'd nonchalantly changed the subject with only a twinge of concern but now it was an ache of regret.

Blaine rolled over on the couch and pulled one of the plush emerald green cushions out. Wrapping his arms around it and squeezing tight, he sighed heavily. It had been helping. Connecting with Kurt or whatever they were doing was working somehow to stop the dull feeling that spoke of loneliness and a distinct lack of understanding but now it was gone.

Blaine swallowed and pressed his nose into the cushion. He couldn't blame Kurt. By lying, he'd crossed a line. Kurt had, and with obvious effort, opened up and spoken about guys and one he seemed to like the look of but fate hated him. Blaine hated fate. To cause the only guy to ignite _something _in Blaine to hate him was just cruel a reality to accept.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

They were two long and life changing weeks.

Kurt swiped a line of moisturizer along his cheekbone and rubbed gently. His fingers were slower, more languid and weak, and his eyes were darker from all of the crying. Nothing seemed real. It was as if the house had grown colder and gradually emptier as time had progressed but he'd blocked it out, tried to push on and just ignore the spark of terror that ignited whenever his brain slipped up and reminded him of the possibilities that could occur.

It was scary how people reacted in serious situations. Kurt kept rubbing the cream into his chin, his cheeks and applied a soft line of eye cream to finish. He thought of Carole and her inability to stand still and stop for a moment, thought of Finn who was quieter and that little bit angrier and lastly thought of himself. Silent. He'd shied away from physical affection and any kind of comfort because there was no point. It wouldn't help, it wouldn't remove the tight fisted fear in his stomach whenever he imagined attending his own father's funeral and it certainly wasn't going to make his father better, so why allow it to happen? Closeness and proximity only meant one step towards accepting reality and breaking down the walls. He couldn't. It simply wasn't an option.

"Kurt? Do you want camomile tea? I think it tastes like you're drinking a garden but my mom says it calms and soothes you or something so I thought, um, I thought that sounded like something you might like."

Turning in his chair, Kurt took in the sight of Finn in his doorway. His forehead was tense and hands balled into fists by his side but his eyes were soft and searching. He was frightened too and just a little frustrated.

Kurt got it.

"Yes, Finn. Yes, that would be nice."

It was as if a light flickered behind Finn's eyes. They widened and brightened instantly, his lips twitching to a half smile in a way that Kurt knew meant that Finn was shocked and touched. They didn't share much – except Glee – but when they did, Finn's eyes would do the same thing. It was an odd kind of bonding, a way they inherently knew the other's feelings and it felt nice. Finn had lost a parent too and Kurt knew he had to keep reminding himself of that.

"Cool. Awesome, dude. Well, erm," Finn motioned to Kurt, flapping his hand in front of him, "just stay there and do whatever you're doing and I'll go get it. I don't know how to make it that well but it's tea right? Can't be that hard."

Kurt found himself smiling. It was laced in fondness and for the first time in weeks, he felt marginally better. He didn't want a hug or sympathetic Hallmark card phrases which only cheapened feelings – he wanted someone to just be there. It seemed he had that in abundance.

Ten minutes later, Finn returned with two mugs and a bag of cookies under his arm. Lingering in the doorway, he smiled as Kurt took the mugs, setting them down on the nightstand and sat on his bed. Kurt could see the trepidation. There was a 'do not enter my room unless I allow it' policy and Finn, standing aimlessly in the doorway, seemed to remember it.

"It's ok," Kurt offered quietly, "you _can _come in you know. Just know that if you spill, break or stain then you lose vital organs. Got it?"

Finn chuckled a little and perched on the edge of the bed. "Got in. Although, dude, your room is too pristine. It's not healthy. I watched a show that says you need some germs in your life or you can't get immune to them or something."

Kurt pursed his lips. "Finn, stuff grows in your room. It grows in places it's not supposed to. If I avoid that fate then I'm happy. Don't worry about my health. I just like things clean."

They talked for an hour, Finn eventually daring to slip off his shoes and sit cross legged.

"Mom said he's coming home tomorrow. Did she tell you?"

Kurt sighed. "Yes. I've already put a system in place for when my dad gets home. He needs special care."

"Yea, of course. I'll help. I don't know how good I'll be, but you can tell me, right?"

"Right," Kurt confirmed, nodding with a tiny smile. Having a brother was shaping up to be pretty nice.

Silence reigned for a moment as Finn munched a cookie over his outstretched hand, his eyes darting to his lap every few seconds to check for rogue crumbs. It was almost adorable. Kurt fought back a giggle at the sight. Looking back, he'd never have imagined that the current situation would somehow become his reality but, in a way, it seemed... _right._

"Oh yea, I was supposed to tell you something. My mom said you have tons of letters downstairs. Apparently, we've sucked at collecting the mail but that's what bereavement does, doesn't it?"

With a groan, Kurt shook his head. "Wow, Finn. No. Definitely not the right word but thanks. I'll get them later."

As Finn disappeared to no doubt stack the dishwasher incorrectly, Kurt lay back and let himself think of the one thing he'd tried to ignore for two weeks.

His pen pal was incredibly gorgeous.

His pen pal was so very talented.

His pen pal was gay and single.

His pen pal had also lied.

Worst of all, he'd written a letter so mortifying and so out of character full of gushing about a boy he thought he'd never see again, only to have that exact same boy receive it, read it and no doubt have a good old laugh at his expense.

Mr. Anderson's words had not only shocked him but there was part of him somewhere latent and buried deep that knew all along. There had been a look in Preppy boy's eyes that hadn't been simple and no guy, no matter how friendly and sweet, had ever looked at him that way before.

Blaine had spoken about being the lead soloist in his Glee Club, he'd waxed lyrical about how much he loved it and had even talked about their uniforms - they were their defining feature, Blaine had said. It should have all been so obvious but it wasn't and that was all down to Blaine. He'd lied.

It wasn't as if Kurt was surprised. Life wasn't easy and it had grown progressively worse at school before even considering Burt's illness and writing simple letters to someone who didn't need to be explained to – Blaine just knew – had felt amazing from the get go. To know someone else was 'listening' without judgement and in understanding was unique and Kurt had never, not for one moment, taken it for granted.

He hadn't relied upon it though. He knew better than to expect someone else to be his savoir and support because people were never that solid, they always left and forever let you down right when you needed them. The only person secure in his life, Kurt thought, was his father and nobody else was ever going to show so much commitment and compassion as nobody was required to. Being a father, Kurt knew his dad had an obligation and one he took seriously. They were a team and nobody pushed them around. They certainly weren't perfect but they tried and Kurt knew that was all he needed.

He was strong enough to fight everything alone. He didn't need anybody because giving in to the desperate longing to just cry or be protected or allow someone else to fight his battles was tantamount to failure and certain to end in heartbreak.

Blaine had spoken so much of his loneliness and how he'd never had anyone to talk to about his feelings because nobody was there to listen. Reading his words, Kurt thought, had always been like reading his own mind and considering all of the base desires he'd held for so long. He _wanted _so much – too much maybe. He was like Rachel Berry and her steadfast and passionate dreams. He wanted but, sometimes, never dared to allow himself to just reach out and allow his dreams to come true.

A boyfriend was a nice thought but it wasn't his reality – it happened to others. He was lucky, he knew that, because he had Mercedes and the New Directions who had his back and, despite their faults which were vast, they were a team and Kurt appreciated that. What he missed and dreamt of was the special kind of closeness only a level of deeper intimacy allowed and _that, _well, that just didn't seem possible. Being bullied for so long and ridiculed for showing exactly who you were wasn't a happy foundation for daring to believe that a normal teenage relationship or even a friendship with a guy was possible and likely.

Kurt had closed that door a long time ago.

The fact that Blaine had lied wasn't fair. He'd tricked him.

Sliding his feet into plush navy slippers, Kurt padded downstairs and located the pile of letters from the coffee table. There were three in total. He knew he'd put it off because reading Blaine's words and feeling the humiliation was not going to be easy, especially not after the giddiness he'd felt when he'd encountered him at Sectionals.

He was so handsome and so blinding in the way he held himself and not to mention, his eyes. Kurt knew his reverence was shameless. The feeling of being so torn between feeling a dry sense of indignation and bitterness towards a simple lie and the very real feelings he felt by just looking into Blaine's eyes was just too confusing.

He needed an explanation. Kurt knew it'd take a lot for him to trust Blaine, to understand how to reconcile both images in his mind and understand why Blaine would look him in the eye and say nothing. Had he been disappointed? Had Blaine taken one look at him and judged him? Was he a disappointment in real life compared to in handwritten form?

His hair had been good that day and Kurt knew he'd worn his best skinny black pants for the competition so he took a breath and stood tall. If Blaine wanted to lie and be underhanded then that was _fine. _He didn't need a boy and certainly didn't need someone to write stupid letters to. He'd write one last note to Blaine and give him a piece of his mind then nothing would be said about his three paged ramble about Blaine's 'dreaminess'.

"Urgh," Kurt groaned, slumping in the chair and tearing open the oldest letter. He took a shaking breath and began to read, knowing fine well that he truly didn't want to stop. Something inside told him that it was wrong. The thought of not having Blaine's letters to look forward to left a strangely hollow feeling in his chest – one that Kurt had not expected.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

_Dear Kurt,_

_I'm sorry if this writing is messy or ifh Im not writing this well. I may have drank some punch and you need to blame Jeff ... he's a Warbler too._

_I am a Warbler. I mean, from the Dalton Academy Warblers. I 'm sorry. I'm so sorry for lying to you I reallyam._

_I got your letter and freakedout. We have so much in common and writing to you is so important to me, you probably won't even understand how important it is to me, or maybe you do. I don't know. All I know is that I read your letter about Sectionals and panicked. _

_I didn't want to ruin what ever it is that we have because I love writing to you. Getting your letters makes my day and I smile whenever I read them. Just knowing someone understands and gets the horrible things that are so possible when you're different and living where we live is just so new to me and I didn't want to risk that because you're really nice._

_I don't have many peopl like you in my life so I'm so sorry. I don't want you to hateme and I know you don't even know me but I want to get to know you better. I think we could be really great friends, Kurt._

_But I received your letter and I don't want you to be embraased because you shouldn't be. Please don't be. Please. I knew it was you. I saw you perform and you were incredible, you all were. I watched you on stage and I got so excited because it was you and it was so tempting to be able to know it was you and see you and what you looked like. _

_I was frightened though. I'm so stupid. I didn't want you to know becuse I knew you might be mad and I couldt tell you. If I'd told you then you'd see me and what if you didn't like me. What if I had to go through all of thatagain and feel down about myself when I usually feel ok._

_I wanted to keep what we had for a little bit longer – am I selfish? I don't want you to think I am because Id do anything for th people I care about. I would. _

_And then I ot your letter and nbody has ever said those things about me. I saw you outside the green room. I wasn't being creepy- I was waiting for some fo the guys in the restroomand ther you were and you looked so alone because the rest of your crazy club were inside arguing. You just seemed so tired of it all and I couldn't help but watch ou and I wanted to make sure you were ok. I don't even know why I thought Id do any good or that youd want me to even try but I wanted to. _

_You are do firrernt to the way I imagined ou but in the best way possible. You have really nice eyes and even Jeff said how awesome your hair is and he's straight and kind of into his hair. It's a big compliment coming from him- truly._

_I couldn't stop looking at you and trying to memorise what you looked like so when I read your letters youd be so alive in my mind and I could see you. That sounds so weird doesn't it?_

_When I lookd at you I was so nervous. I hadn't meant to. I didn't mean to make eye contact but you looked up and I idn't want to be rude and look away because that would have hurt your feelings so I smiled and I'm pleased i did. _

_What you said about me._

_Kurt, I_

_Thank you for hat you said. I means so much and I'm so touched and I know you're probably going o rip this up and hate me forever because you think I'm cruel and sneaky and underhanded but I promise Im not. I made a mistake. It was a nice mistake because it meant I got to see you bu it was stupid of me and I know it took a lot for you to write that._

_Id ont want you to think Id laug at you or think youre lame for writing that tome. I wish I'd been able to tell you sooner but I didn't think it would be a big deal. I thought Id jst be some random you guy you'd forget about._

_I'm so sorry Kurt. So sorryand I hope you forgive me. If it makes up for it all, you have such pretty eyes and you know the one thng I wanted t do when I saw you...well two things. I don't think I even wanted to admit to my self but I just wanted to talk to you. I hear your voice answering me and to be able to say things to you and then the toher thing, I guess was that I wanted to give you a hug. To thank ou for writing to me when I guess I needed someone to talk to and you owed me nothing._

_Please don't hate me. I hope we can just forget about how much of a loser I am. It'll never happenagsin._

_I know we aren't super close or anything but I know here's something there and I just want to know what before I mess it all up and you don't ever talkto me again. _

_I put a present in. I'm at a friend's house and I'm goignt o post this from across the street. Its so late and I'm sorryfor my spelling and terrible handwiritng. I just panicked and had to tell you everything. I put a flwer in for you, it's purple and I tought it looked really nice from the window so when I go down to pos this I'll put one in for you._

_Its to say sorry. If I had time Id press it for you. I know you like that._

_I'm so sorry. So so sorry. I really am and I hope youcan forgive me. _

_Many heartfelt apologies. Seriously._

_Blaine (the idiot)_

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Kurt felt his hands shake and heart quicken as he fumbled to read more.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

_Dear Kurt,_

_I know I sent you a letter and I just want you to know how sorry and truly embarrassed I am. I wasn't thinking. I was at a friend's party and I don't usually drink but I was feeling lousy and had a couple of cups of punch. It must have gone straight to my head because I don't remember much and I certainly do not know what I wrote to you, just that I did._

_I want you to know how terrible I feel for lying. Yes, I'm not proud of it and I'm not happy I did that you when I know there are things in your life, people in your life that are making it a lot more difficult to deal with. I don't want to be one of those people. Please forgive me if I am._

_I haven't heard from you in quite a while and I'm placing this down to the fact I was an enormous idiot without a brain and messed up our friendship. Can I call it a friendship? I don't know. I feel like I know you and writing to you has become important to me._

_I don't know what to think or what to say. Feeling as if I've upset someone I can't talk to is difficult. It sounds silly but I want to see your eyes and your face so I know I haven't hurt you. It must have taken so much to tell me what you did._

_I hope you don't feel embarrassed. Please don't._

_I wish you all the happiness in the world,_

_Blaine_

_PS: I really am truly sorry._

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

_Dear Kurt,_

_I am going to presume you don't wish to write to me anymore. I regret what I did so much. I want you to know that it was only done out of my own pathetic fear. That's all. I just didn't want to risk a good thing. _

_I hope everything you wish for comes true and that the people in your life who are making it harder and who have a negative influence in your life become fewer and that you have plenty of people close to you who care. Even during the short time we knew each other, I got one thing from you and one thing I'm almost certain is true about you – you feel so much. I can tell that if you cared for someone then you'd cherish and treasure and to be given the chance to be considered your friend or a confidant or anything must be a great honour because you're careful. You are selective and specific with your life and I respect this. I wish I had the courage to do that._

_I won't bother you anymore but please know that if I hurt you then I'm so sorry._

_Take care of yourself Kurt,_

_With affection,_

_Blaine_

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Throwing the letters into a pile by the bed, Kurt changed for bed into discount Dior silk pajamas and pulled the covers right up and over his head. His mind was racing. Blaine's words were clear and hit straight to his heart. Kurt hoisted the covers higher. They blocked out the light and the world – it felt good. Flicking out his lamp, he forced himself to sleep in order to drown out the voice inside his head telling him that everything was a mess but it didn't need to be anymore. Kurt swallowed thickly – allowing himself to believe that was like leaping from a cliff. No way.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Kurt wriggled back into the stack of pillows behind his head, the soft cloud-like feeling surrounding him and wrapping him before a warm breath coasted along his jaw, persistent and so close. Lips pressed gradually, one by one, along his jaw as a wide but careful hand pressed him firmly in place, a tentative thumb stroking ever so slightly across his hip. Kurt sucked in a breath, his eyes still so tightly closed through fear – the fear that opening them would stop whatever was happening. _What was happening?_

Kurt felt his skin flood hot and flushed. _Nobody_ got this close. A small squeak sounded somewhere in his throat as fingers slid around his waist, arms following and holding on tight. A strange but grounding weight pressed down.

He let out a gasp, his back arching off the mattress and into another whose skin was hot and so very real. Kurt reached out, grasping the person's shoulders to steady him and slow down his desperate breaths in an attempt to focus. It was all too _much, too teasing, too close and warm and gentle and ... _as hazel eyes met his own, Kurt melted down as lips found a sensitive spot below his ear.

Snapping open his eyes, Kurt felt himself shaking. He sat upright, fingers twisted into his duvet and chest heaving in shuddering breaths. His skin was pink, eyes blurry and heart beating hard against his ribs.

As he tried to focus, tried to bring himself back down from whichever cloud he was sure he was on, Kurt slumped forward, head in hands.

"You're losing your mind," he told himself, voice couched in sleep. In honesty, he knew he wasn't. Those eyes were a pair he recognised and he couldn't get them out of his mind, even in sleep. It was as if someone was trying to tell him something, hell, even his own brain was concocting frighteningly real and terribly hot dreams to tease him.

Climbing out of bed and onto his vanity chair, Kurt's eyes fell on the pressed flower tucked into the hinge of his mirror. With a glance at himself, eyes wide and skin flushed, he smirked a little and laughed. It was ridiculous. He should have been mad and embarrassed but there was something in Blaine's words that made so much sense.

Kurt knew he'd never give up a good thing and risk it if it provided him with comfort; especially not if it was comfort he so desperately needed which Blaine obviously did. Kurt knew he hadn't allowed himself to need. He wanted a lot and wanted it all so badly but there were barriers that had existed for far too long – it felt as if he was falling without a single thing to grasp onto. School still sucked and the losers destined for trailer park lives of denial were always going to be there - one Neanderthal specifically - but for some unknown reason there were feelings in his chest, in his stomach and running all over his skin that were so new and frightening but... addictive.

Before he knew what he was doing, Kurt grabbed a pen and one of his prettiest slices of stationary and wrote a short but important letter.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

**Dear Blaine,**

**I got your letters – all three of them.**

**I met your father and I know it was you that day – your smile, your eyes, your voice.**

**I'm not going to pretend like finding out didn't hurt and that I wasn't embarrassed. I'm humiliated but still.**

**I understand what you said and I empathize. I don't **_**feel **_**very often and when I do, usually when I perform or get hurt, it's strong and overwhelming. I keep a lot under wraps.**

**I think I need to talk to you.**

**I don't know why but I don't like the unresolved. When I want something or when I need to understand something, I do it directly and I can't write that all down. I like words better.**

**I'm taking a leap of faith here and I hope I don't regret it. I've written my number below. I want you to call me on Sunday evening at 7pm and we can talk.**

**Please know that this isn't exactly easy for me but I'm still doing it because... well, I don't even know. I want to.**

**I'll be by the phone,**

**Kurt.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>~tbc<strong>_

_**Chapter 6 will be up in the next few days :) :) Thank you as always for all of your encouragement and comments AND your brilliant messages!  
><strong>_


	6. Before We Hang Up

**Author's Notes  
><strong>**_I'm SO sorry for the wait. I've had an insane week. I've been in London at two of Darren's show and then at the HP Premiere. Safe to say I got next to no sleep and had THE most special couple of days. Seeing Darren live after 2 years of HOPING he'd come here was a bloody DREAM COME TRUE and I swear, he's just as much of an adorable, stupidly talented goofball in real life. His voice. There are no words, especially not when talking about his versions of TDream. I cried both nights. So anyway – long story short – that's my very good excuse for keeping you lovely people waiting._**

**_I have absolutely NO plans for a while so that means I can write more._**

**_Again, this is the last Chapter of narrative before 2 of pretty much solid letters. There is NO narrative next time. It hopefully makes sense and I REALLY do hope you like this Chapter. It was a tricky one to write but I hope it feels, to use a Darren phrase, ORGANIC ;)_**

**_Thank you EVER SO MUCH for the frankly amazing feedback you guys have given me. I'm so grateful. I hope you continue to enjoy it just as much._**

**_Also a big thank you to Lucie/whenidance for sorting out my pesky Britishisms : )_**

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

"Mom?" Blaine asked, throwing his laundry into the machine in an attempt to avoid her gaze.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she asked softly, her attention quite firmly on her diary as she checked off her 'thing to do' list.

"You and Dad are still going out tonight, right? It's that company dinner, isn't it?" Smiling, she nodded as Blaine rested against the counter. He could feel his heart beat regulating itself. "I wanted to ask if I was ok to use the phone to call a friend. He moved away last year and apparently he has some big news and we need to catch up. It's a long time since we talked. Would it be ok if I called him? It won't cost more as we have that free weekend call package, right?"

"Of course, Blaine. We'll be out from six so you're free to call whoever you want, you know that." Half distracted by her list, she glanced up and offered a genuine smile. Blaine sighed, his shoulders loosening.

"Thanks Mom," he said simply before slipping out of the room and escaping to his room. He could do it. He could call Kurt and explain and _eventually _be able to talk about everything. With a deep breath, he pulled Kurt's letters from their usual hiding place and re-read the last one for what seemed like the hundredth time. The sentences were clipped but it was a sign that Kurt wanted them to remain 'friends' and Blaine knew that Kurt cared in some way or another about their situation. It was expendable in many ways and so easy to stop at once- it would only take one of them to stop writing and their 'relationship' would effectively be over. Kurt obviously wanted to _try _and that was enough in itself.

Blaine resumed his homework, his heart a little lighter than before and a small smile fixed on his lips.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

Kurt stretched his fingers, the joints aching from so much exertion. Mixing cookie dough and cupcake batter wasn't all that tiring but he knew he was taking out his nerves and general frustration with a terrible school week on the mixing bowl.

Pouring the batter into the greased tins was always satisfying but not as fun as watching it rise in the oven. An hour later, Kurt had twenty cakes cooling on his wire rack and a tray of cookies steaming on the counter top. Finn had walked past, eyeing up the newly baked goods, and Kurt knew it was only a matter of time before he'd have to slap hands away from his handiwork. He wrote a note: "_Touch anything and I'll do what I always threaten"_. Finn would know what he meant – his browser history hung like the Sword of Damocles and it was far too satisfying to use it sometimes.

It was rolling slowly towards seven and after a week of more locker shoves, name calling and even a slushie or two, Kurt closed his eyes as he sank down into his pillows and wondered what the hell he was doing.

The letter had hardly been polite and it wasn't fair really. Blaine had only made a lapse in judgement for a good reason and it wasn't his fault that it had all catastrophically collapsed in on itself. It was unfortunate and Kurt knew he'd been a bit hard on him. Still, Kurt knew he had every right to be humiliated. After years of never discussing guys or anything to do with matters of the heart, being so awkwardly embarrassed like that hadn't been nice. He felt exposed and it wasn't a feeling he ever wished to repeat. Blaine knew how Kurt felt about him, about how he looked and how he seemed and just the simply knowledge of that was excruciating enough – Kurt frowned, feeling childish. He could do it. He'd never told another person he liked them or found them attractive but people did it all the time. He should be able to do it. He could.

Checking his cell for the hundredth time, he reached for the current month's Vogue and tried to just stop thinking about it all.

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

It had been an hour or so since the door had closed and the house had grown silent. Blaine sat with a large mug of coffee and quivering fingers.

Practicing how to say hello over and over until the word began to sound disjointed and alien, Blaine felt the nerves swoop in. What to say to someone you've technically never met before but who you've inadvertently upset and also consider to be sweet, funny, fascinating and completely mesmerising to look at? He laughed to himself, almost wryly spitting the words as he spoke to himself. "Don't make stuff up in your head, Blaine. He is upset with you. You lied. He's just going to end it all amicably over the phone. Nothing more."

The pep talk didn't work.

As 6.58pm rolled around, Blaine let his shaking fingers type out Kurt's number. His heart hammered in his fingertips as he shuffled to sit up on his bed, his back against the wall.

Kurt jumped as his phone sprung to life. He took a steadying breath, his mind going blank as he pressed the button to answer.

Blaine couldn't focus. There was silence for a second and his ears burned with nerves as he realised he had to speak, he had to do something.

"Hello? Kurt?" he asked tentatively and as gently as possible. He knew his voice wavered a little and came out uncharacteristically high.

Kurt sucked in a breath. "Hello."

"I...um..."

"Thank you for calling. I wasn't sure if you would."

Blaine frowned, his cheeks turning pink regardless of the fact he was alone. The situation was surreal.

"Of course I would," Blaine rushed out far too eagerly with entirely too much emphasis. His mind screamed to 'calm down' but it was as if he had to talk, had to say exactly everything he wanted to just to snap the awkwardness and make peace. He could barely hold it in. "I wanted to call and I wanted to say how sorry I am. It was never my intention to upset you or embarrass you and if it's any consolation, I'm terrible at stuff like that. I seem to always try to do right but sometimes it goes wrong and I never mean for it to happen. I just rush things and I don't think. I go with what my heart and gut feelings tell me and that includes the fear and then my head is a mile behind with all rational thought. You didn't deserve to be upset and I'm so sorry. I really am."

Kurt swallowed, his eyes wide and head reeling a little. Every single word was so sincere and Blaine's voice...

Hearing it for the first time was a little shocking. It was like velvet - smooth and gentle but with a side of confidence that seemed so similar to his own. Kurt knew he put a lot of it on, kept people a few miles away with a sense of 'I'm fine. I don't need anyone' and Blaine's voice held the same message but with something much softer. It wasn't prickly or fierce, it was solid and sure. Kurt closed his eyes and knew he couldn't be angry. It was his own pride that was dented and horribly so but he couldn't blame Blaine for it. It was all a mistake and the fall out couldn't be attributed to anyone specific. Kurt knew, as he laid his head back on his wall, that he'd have undoubtedly done the same as Blaine had he been in the same position.

"It's ok."

Blaine blinked to himself, words caught in the back of his throat.

"It is?" he asked, a few inches of deflation in his shoulders, "because I thought you were going to say you didn't want us to write anymore."

"No," Kurt said quickly, shocking himself at the surety in his tone, "no, of course not, Blaine. That wouldn't be fair. I like writing to you."

With a smile to himself, Blaine sighed. "You do? Because I do too and I know what I did may have come across as sneaky but it truly wasn't intended that way. I do tend to be impulsive to my own detriment. It's a problem."

Kurt smiled. "You sound so much older than seventeen.'

Taken aback a little, Blaine bit his lip. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good," Kurt replied on a short giggle.

Silence took over for a second. Kurt could hear Blaine's gentle breaths on the other end of the line wobbling slightly with what he could only imagine was the same dose of nerves he was feeling too. Something changed.

"This is weird," Blaine said eventually, "Not in a bad way but for a start, I rarely talk on the phone to people and well, it's _you_I'm talking to and that's a whole other level of surreal."

"Good to know that talking to me is freaking you out so much. Exactly the effect I wanted," Kurt teased. He smiled to himself at the ease in his voice. Usually he'd tease with bite and sarcasm but his voice wasn't harsh or sharp, it was strangely affectionate. Blaine wasn't the guy he'd imagined from first judgement. He was something entirely different.

"Well, if I hadn't screwed things up then maybe it wouldn't be so weird," Blaine admitted with a sigh.

"We can forget that ever happened now," Kurt said simply, meaning every word, "perhaps the not talking about it will help me forget that I effectively wrote a letter to you all about you including some painfully shallow observations about your appearance and maybe you will stop blaming yourself for something I would have done myself. This is not your normal everyday situation. Let's just accept that and go from there."

Blaine didn't know what to say. Kurt's voice was so ethereal and lyrical yet his tone delivered so much force. Blaine knew he'd say 'yes' immediately.

"Ok."

"Good," Kurt replied simply, "because I want to start again if you want to."

"As in, 'hello I'm Blaine. Nice to meet you?'"

Kurt laughed despite himself. Feeling his chest swell a little with something nice - a feeling he wasn't all that used to - he continued.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Kurt," he offered, then a beat later and with a sense of ease and playfulness, added "So are we doing last names now because I think it's a little unfair that I know yours and you don't know mine. As long as you promise not to turn into a creepy psycho and stalk me, because I've seen those episodes of Law and Order and they're not pretty. I've got plenty of time for adoring fans and crazy obsessing when I'm a Broadway star or launching my own collection at New York Fashion Week but not right now."

Blaine began to laugh. There wasn't any tension anymore, the only feelings present were new and causing every word to be spoken so tentatively and with care - neither wanted to cross a boundary that hadn't even been placed yet. Kurt smiled at the sound of Blaine's laughter. The New Directions were tuned into his sense of humour now and they usually rolled their eyes at his sarcasm or one-liners – nobody genuinely laughed and took them as they were intended. Why did Blaine seem to?

"I promise I won't camp in your yard and go through your garbage, Kurt, well, not until you become a big star anyway. Or maybe I can sell our letters and make a killing from the proceeds. They'd go for thousands. 'The Inner workings of Kurt-" Blaine paused, wracking his brain for a name. "Wait, you haven't actually told me it yet. What's your last name?"

"Hummel."

With wide eyes, Blaine grinned. "Like the figurines?"

Groaning, Kurt hummed in the affirmative. "Unfortunately. When I was tiny, my mom and dad used to receive them for my birthday as relatives and family friends used to coo over my resemblance to them and chuckle at the irony. Now, at sixteen, it gets kind of old."

Again, Blaine laughed, unable to hold it in. Kurt's way of speaking was so spunky and _alive. _"My mom always said I looked like a 30's film star. She used to dress me in baby chinos and shirts with combed hair. I looked like a kid from one of those ancient commercials for cereal or something. Embarrassing, really."

Kurt bit his lip, swallowing a giggle. He could see it, easily. "Well, not to bring up the letter again but I am sure I made reference to old and distinguished film stars and your distinct resemblance. Maybe she was onto something?"

"Nah," Blaine groaned, "now, I have to wear my hair like that for school and shows. It gets kind of tedious because I'm sure I told you about it. How it's curly and unruly. My Grandmother used to call me 'her little lion' when I was small as my hair was like a mane, all wild and untameable. It wasn't a good look for me so I keep it short now but you're kind to even think I can pull off the vintage era look. I love old movies."

Something sprung to life in Kurt's chest. "You do?"

"Yep. Old movies, old music, old fashion, old buildings. The old stuff is definitely the best."

Kurt nodded to himself, sitting upright and alert. "I agree. I love modern too, of course. My old room was Dior grey and full of clean modern lines but it complemented my mood. I suppose melancholy was the catalyst for that particularly bold choice. Ennui doesn't allow for homely and rustic. Now though, my bed is covered in fur and my room is filled with old pieces I've collected and new antique effect items that are so beautiful. They match my mom's vanity which I keep in my room too."

Kurt caught himself mid flow. It was strange to say so much. Usually sentences were short and staccato or purposeful and to the point. Nothing ran on and words certainly didn't go beyond what was necessary but for some reason, the fact that Blaine wasn't there and was a simple, unguarded and non-judgemental voice on the end of the line was comforting. He didn't have to agree or even comment, he was just listening and for the first time it felt... nice.

"Where do you get your ideas from?" Blaine asked, settling back into the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. As he leaned on his knees with a smile, something bloomed in his stomach, warm and inviting – a strange sense of fascination, wonderment and genuine interest. Kurt _wanted _to talk culture and movies and design and intelligent or creative things and seemed to do it with abandon and no worries about seeming too feminine or anything so ignorant. He was passionate and it was obvious with every syllable that came out of his mouth.

Blaine knew he envied him and they hadn't even met properly.

"Oh, just magazines and things I see on screen or in department stores. I like to make collages of things I like. Mood boards help sometimes. I have chest under my bed filled with magazines and cuttings that inspire me."

Blaine sighed contentedly. "I'd love to see that. I like that kind of thing."

Things turned awkward. Any mention of boundaries and silence took hold.

"So, um," Kurt stuttered, reigning in his babble and steering the conversation back to their initial discussion, "I met your father."

At once, Blaine's muscles tightened. He sat up, his hold on the phone a little harder than before. "You mentioned that in your letter," he said stiffly, scared of the inevitable reaction that someone like Kurt would have, "what happened?"

"I told you I worked in my dad's garage to earn money to save up for projects I have and for my wardrobe. I have priorities," Kurt deadpanned, presuming Blaine would chuckle but he didn't. His breathing seemed to waver slightly, still soft against the mouthpiece of the phone but it was disjointed now and noticeably so. "Your dad came in to have your car checked out and well, serendipity ensued and here we are."

"How did you, erm, I mean, did you talk? You knew who I was and who he was."

"Well yes," Kurt explained firmly, "I was singing to myself to pass the time and he commented about his son and how he sings sometimes, more so when he was younger. Only a mention of my Glee Club and he said his son sang in a similar club. Didn't take a genius to work out the rest, especially not when he told me which particular club you were a member of. Remembering you'd explained you were lead vocalist and leader of that particular club lead me to the mortifying discovery that lead to this phone call and we are up to date."

"I see."

"Blaine?"

In a second, Blaine took a breath, his stomach clenching with nerves at the simple but ominous sounding question. "Yes?"

"I'd like us to still write to each other."

"Me too."

Kurt didn't know where it came from or why he chose a moment so random and inopportune but emotions bubbled to the surface and it was as if he was clinging to the moment, to the fact that someone was listening for once but he spoke before he could stop himself.

"You said you needed someone to talk to?"

Blaine licked his lips thoughtfully, his cheeks growing pink momentarily. He knew he sounded frighteningly pathetic and needy but it was true and Kurt deserved to know that. "Yes."

"I do too." Kurt swallowed the lump rising in his throat. It was spontaneous and awkward but something seemed so desperately real. They'd only been talking about insignificant matters but it was enough – enough for Kurt to realise how his life lacked exactly that. He had Mercedes and the New Directions but everything required explanation and elaboration – even some popular culture references (anyone who didn't appreciate the soundtrack to Gypsy was simply a barbarian as far as Kurt was concerned) – which not only made their relationship exist with a level of distance but it meant Kurt craved a level of closeness that he hadn't been lucky enough to find yet. He never considered it possible that he ever would. He slid lower into his pillows and pulled one to his side. Clutching it as he spoke, he closed his eyes and prayed that he didn't sound like an awareness campaign for the terminally lonely. "My dad-"

Blaine sucked in a breath and interrupted. "Kurt, you don't need to talk about that if you're not comfortable with it. I don't expect anything. I know this is a kind of confidential and it feels nice to share things but if you're not ready to talk about that then don't think I expect anything from you."

Kurt blinked back tears. They welled up without warning. "I know," he whispered, suddenly coughing his own vulnerability away in a second, "I don't think of you like that and don't worry, I never talk about things unless I want to."

Blaine let out a wry laugh, his hand absent mindedly cradling the phone. "Good. I thought as much but I wanted to make sure you knew. Sorry, go on."

With a breath, Kurt continued. "When he was sick and in the hospital, I realized a lot about my life. I got angry with my close friends and shut people out. I didn't talk about anything because they didn't understand – nobody did. If I lost, If I... If I lost my dad then I'd have nothing. They didn't get that, maybe except Finn but he's a truffle short of a chocolate box so he's never really that great at pitching himself in the moment. He means well but he means well like a Labrador. It makes you smile for a while but doesn't take the pain away."

Blaine blanched a little at the realization that his hands were clutching the phone tight to his ear, holding it in place with his fingers wrapped tightly and protectively around the chord as if to transfer some sort of emotion down the line. He knew he couldn't but the subconscious gesture was enough to shock him nonetheless.

"It's easier when you don't have to say anything at all. It's easier when someone just _gets it?_" Blaine asked, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster in his chest with a dawning realisation that maybe what they were to each other was a lot more than pen pals.

"Exactly. It's not just when my dad was in the hospital with the whole religion thing and the fear I had of losing him. It's like, they look at me and see me walking the halls and attending classes and singing in Glee Club and assume I'm fine. It's not like I'm expecting them to rally round like the Brady Bunch and solve all of my problems but it'd be nice, for once, for someone to just... see. I'm usually so good at explaining myself but-"

"It's like you're so good at being one thing that you just stick to that because it works for you and it keeps you strong and keeps you going but secretly you want someone to realize you're more than that or that you have so many more sides to you?"

"Yes."

"Or you just want to be able to be yourself without even having to consider others?"

"Exactly."

"And-"

"Blaine?" Kurt asked with a smile to his voice, biting his lip to keep himself from beaming. It was rare but he felt oddly giddy.

"Yes?"

"I don't think you need to elaborate. We're on the same page."

Headlights flashed through the window as a car passed down the street and Kurt blinked out of his daze. Never had he imagined that by writing to a stranger he'd find the person in his life he'd been dreaming of for a long time – someone who understood.

It was both scary and miraculous, the realization that Blaine knew fully and in shameful detail exactly how gorgeous Kurt considered him to be. He knew and although he hadn't mentioned it – why would he? – it was still knowledge between them both that would inevitably have to be talked about at some point. It played no part in their odd connection but it had to remain overlooked if they were to continue writing to one another.

They couldn't risk what they had. Kurt realized exactly what Blaine had felt when he'd decided to keep quiet. Kurt was a little late on the uptake, a little slow at realizing exactly how special it was to have someone to talk to. Not one for allowing weakness to rush to the surface, Kurt knew that because it had and because he'd recognised his pretty desperate and latent _need _that he couldn't ignore it now. He couldn't let Blaine go.

The realization was terrifying. They still didn't know each other. It felt like they did but did they really? Was it a 'fake' truth? Did they only know the side that the other wished to show? Or had they bypassed the complications of real life contact and travelled directly to the deeper connection that meant that what they had was something even more remarkable?

As Kurt's brain began to hurt, Blaine laughed. "You realize we have to perform at Regionals, don't you?"

There it was. The inevitable complication.

Kurt held his breath a little. "What do you think we should do?"

"Write," Blaine said simply, "write to each other until then."

Blushing out of nowhere and smiling to himself in relief, Kurt sighed. "I'd like that," he agreed, "and it's a good job you said that because I was about to go online and revoke my bid on that new box of expensive stationary I had my eye on."

Laughing, Blaine pressed his lips together and shook his head. He'd miss Kurt's tone the second they said goodbye, he knew he would. "We couldn't have that."

"Most definitely not," Kurt affirmed with an air of haughtiness, "do you have any idea how rare limited edition Paul Smith notepaper is?"

"No but I can't wait to see it when it lands in my mail box."

"So do we forget we can talk on the phone?" Kurt asked, steering the conversation immediately back to the serious issues. He had to know because the reality was such unknown territory that there simply was no unwritten rule book inherently within everyone like there was when meeting someone in person and developing a connection. Rules seemed to be the best option.

"Should we add this to our list?"

Kurt thought for a moment. "I think so. As... well, as nice as this was. Writing is what we always intended to do and it's worked for us so far except the minor hiccup that we're not going to talk about. Rules are sensible."

They talked some more and came to the same conclusion every time – writing was the best option. They'd have to meet again – it was inevitable – but they didn't need to complicate things further than they already had.

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I'm so happy you asked me to call."

"I'm happy I did too," Kurt said a little breathless, in a tone even he didn't recognize. There was something sing song about it but also something soft and affectionate. He didn't want to hang up and his hand clutched at the phone in a way that felt verging on pathetic.

"Before we hang up, there was something I always wanted to write to you about but I never found the right moment. I know you don't talk about it that often but you spoke of trouble at school before and I wanted you to know that you're not alone. If it's happening, you don't have to accept it as par for the course-"

"Way to break the stereotype with a golf term," Kurt added, breaking the tension in an attempt to change the subject. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Karofsky and the other oafs at McKinley High.

"Well spotted," Blaine laughed lightly, his tone turning serious once more, "but I do know how it feels. I was bullied at my old school and it hurts. It's damaging in many ways but the worst part of it is the way it can become part of your day."

"Blaine-"

"No, Kurt, I'd say this to anyone but I'm saying it to you because you mentioned it as if it was something so frequent it was unavoidable-"

"It is unavoidab-"

"You need to show them Kurt, teach them that what they're doing to you _isn't okay. _You know, whether it's because of your sexuality or not, prejudice of any kind is just ignorance and you are _not _weak."

"No I'm not but-"

"No buts. You're not. I could see it in the way you held yourself, the clothes you wore, the way you spoke and I could see it in your eyes. I can hear it now. They hurt you and school sucks but you're riding the storm-"

"Until I can escape," Kurt added, his eyes filling with tears. No way was he weak. He answered back, pushed back, fought back, shouted back and tried every trick in the book to stop the taunting and constant inevitable attacks but nothing seemed to work. Nothing.

He swallowed thickly knowing that if he said too many words, he'd cry. "There's this one guy who is on this mission to make my life a living hell. Everything is in plain sight and normally in the school corridors but nobody seems to notice. Nobody bats an eyelid because it's what I should expect. 'High school is a dry run for the rest of your life' I've been told. Screw that. Nobody deserves to be treated the way I am. I'd never intentionally hurt anyone and I'm always going to be true to myself but-"

"Kurt, listen to me," Blaine said firmly, his voice almost shaking with sincerity and a need so fierce and determined to get the message across that it felt monumental, "they _don't _understand. It's like 'hey if you're gay or a little different, you're life's just going to be miserable and there's nothing you can do about it, sorry' and that's that. Those people don't have to go home and convince themselves that they're not a freak of nature or not doomed for hell because of something so pure and natural. It pisses me off. It's so unfair."

Kurt could feel the hot tracks cascading down his face but he took deep and shallow breaths as he wiped them away and focused on the depth of Blaine's voice.

"You never spoke a lot about your old school," Kurt whispered, trying to mask the fact his lips quivered with every syllable, "were you taunted badly too?"

"Maybe I'll write it down for you," Blaine said simply, "but I always wanted to say all of this to you because, firstly, it was part of the point of the letters in the first place, and secondly, you wrote a couple of things that were so blasé when they shouldn't have been. You're angry. I can feel it and you need to channel that. Don't do what I did."

"What do you mean?" Kurt could feel how small his voice was and knew Blaine would hear every miniscule breath and hitch of it but he couldn't hold back. Blaine's words were so full of compassion and such a profound and almost painful understanding that it was hard to resist.

"Refuse to be the victim, Kurt. You're so much more than that. I ran. I wasn't strong enough then and I regret it so much but it's in the past now and I've made the best of my situation. Dalton's great but it's not like the big wide world. Your school has flaws, that much is obvious, but those flaws shouldn't mean you walk the halls in constant fear of abuse. You _don't _deserve that. Not at all."

"I know."

"So show them how strong you are. Confront them. Call them out for being the low lives they are. They're so scared of being different and showing their own souls that they find their own strength in tearing people down. You're too special to be torn down. Don't let them." Kurt let out a sob as he pressed his sleeve over his eyes, the tears pooling and spreading in dark patches - so messy. A little frantic, Kurt swallowed over and over, blinking back the steady stream of fresh tears. "Oh my god, I made you cry. Kurt? Kurt, please tell me you're not crying. I'm sorry. Maybe I overstepped -"

"No," Kurt bit back, "no, don't do that. Nobody has ever spoken to me like that before. It's just a shock, that's all."

Blaine screwed his eyes closed, praying that every word sounded as sincere as it was meant. "I know how it feels, Kurt. I really do. I just wanted to say it while I had the chance."

Kurt took in a long and slow breath, his fingers wiping any residual tears. "Thank you."

"No need."

"Well..." Kurt offered, the word hanging between them like a question.

"This has been one hell of a phone call."

Almost choking on a laugh, wet and met with a sniffle, Kurt hummed in agreement. "I don't know what we are, what _this_ is but I..."

"We're not into labels, right?" Blaine half laughed as his palms began to sweat. The honesty was easy but petrifying all at once. He _wanted _it badly and _needed _it just as much but in one fell swoop, he felt his chest tighten at the prospect of talking about _feelings _especially _those feelings. _He could dish out the advice – it came from regretful experience – but it was too terrifying to consider that anything could develop which would require talking about emotions...

"Depends what kind of labels," Kurt joked, laughing now. Blaine spat out a chuckle, the noise loud and kind of infectious down the line causing Kurt to grin a little smugly. Blaine found him funny.

"So we just say goodbye and hang up?"

Kurt held his breath. "I guess we do. How very dramatic of us."

"I think it suits us."

"Ok then," Kurt giggled, unsure as to how the conversation had turned from deep and dark to wistfully poignant and then progressed so rapidly to teasing and light hearted and, dare he admit it, slightly flirtatious. "Goodbye, Blaine Anderson. It has been a pleasure talking to you."

"Likewise, Kurt Hummel. I believe it's my turn to write so expect a letter soon. I promise it will be written while entirely sober and without any unforgiveable spelling mistakes."

"Good because I swear I had to decipher half of that letter slowly to grasp even half of what you were saying. If that's what drunk does then spare me. I tried it once by accident and it didn't suit me. Never again. I had to witness a perfectly good pair of Jimmy Choos being thrown in a high school dumpster and that in itself is enough to turn a guy off drink for life."

"I bet it haunts your dreams," Blaine offered, laughing and unable to control the giggles, "and you do realize we're still talking, don't you?"

"I'm going to hang up now."

"Take Care, Kurt."

"Ditto."

**~tbc**


	7. October Through Till November

**Author's Notes**

_...and so the letters begin! This Chapter has been THE most tricky to write, hence the delay. I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting so long. Staying at mum's then dad's and then at friends means a nightmare of keeping track of internet/laptops. I have this Chapter all planned now, mostly written and now it's just tweaking to do so I'll be posting it in 3 parts stipulated by date!_

_To the lovely person who said that they loved the premise of letters/penpals and couldn't wait to read Kurt and Blaine falling in love through snail mail as so far I've been a tease. You might be happy : )_

_Thank you so very much to those who have sent me messages on tumblr, LJ and for the kindness and glorious reviews. You have kept me writing. Thank you for the birthday wishes also!_

_Once again, thank you ever so much to Kerry/Lucie for their help with my Britishisms and general loveliness. _

_I hope you enjoy this Chapter and the ADDED EXTRAS – Chapter 7 is a little more 'creative' shall we say! Please pay attention to DATES... they'd not exceptionally important at the moment but it gives an idea of pacing and they become a little more important in Part 2._

_**ALSO- and this is IMPORTANT - this Chapter includes 2 images. There is a link at the bottom of my profile. I wish ffnet allowed images by alas no * sad face * The formatting on LJ is SO much nicer.**  
><em>

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><p><strong>OCTOBER through till NOVEMBER<strong>

**October 22nd**

**Blaine,**

**Look what I found! Mercedes and I went shopping on Saturday and as I was browsing the more, shall we say, elitist product ranges, I found a rather flawless looking lady who was promoting a new range of hair care products for people with curly hair. They specialise in the 'unruly' curl department and while I don't wish to insult, you said yours was hard to manage.**

**I hope you like your little trial sachet! I'd say send me a photograph of the results but that would be creepy so I won't. Still, read the instructions for application well – so many people make that rooky mistake with cosmetics or beauty products. It's a beginner's tip ;)**

**Also, something terrifying happened a couple of days ago. No, I didn't leave the house uncoordinated nor did I catch a cold (which is the ultimate worst). I think I may have had a 'moment' with Rachel Berry.**

**I HAVE told you about Rachel but I don't think the truth can be appreciated unless one has the opportunity to meet her. You've seen her too, which, again, doesn't give the full effect. She's a nightmare, she's irritating, she adores the sound of her own voice – and I mean to the extent that Mercedes found an entire playlist of her own recordings on her iPod when we were snooping during a REALLY boring Glee club meeting – she is annoyingly giddy, she is needy but at the same time so completely driven that she'd trample on anyone with her frighteningly tiny feet and... oh you get the picture.**

**Anyway, I was at my locker and she told me she'd been listening to a lot of Judy Garland recently and even made a comment about how MY voice was on par with Judy's – emotive and lyrical, why thank you very much. She said since SHE was Barbra and I, apparently, remind her of Judy, we were destined to meet and eventually perform their famous duet. Happy Days are Here Again/Get Happy.**

**Safe to say we nailed it. After the failure of the duets task when 'pretty boy-potentially gay Sam' became 'pretty boy-puppy for Quinn Sam' and Mercedes teamed up with Santana (Satan as I so fondly call her), Rachel said she felt bad that I had to perform a duet on my own (long story) and she always felt that there was a sense of unresolved tension after our Diva Off last year. (Long story short – I threw a note to fail the contest as my Dad received some nasty phonecalls no doubt from the Neanderthals at our school. I wanted to spare him the awkwardness of his son singing a girl's song even though I've wanted to sing it for years, Wicked's one of my all-time favourite musicals and well, I shouldn't have to change myself for anyone but I'd do it for the sake of my Dad. He doesn't deserve the extra baggage.)**

**ANYWAY, I digress. We performed. I styled her – naturally. She wanted to resurrect a particularly hideous pant suit that, _yes _Barbra had worn in her hay day but _no _it wasn't possible to 'bring back'. She has two gay dads (did I ever tell you this?). What are they doing letting their only daughter leave the house looking like Marsha from the Brady Bunch? Surely they have eyes AND a more superior sense of taste what with being of a homosexual persuasion but apparently not – the stereotype mustn't extend their way. Pity – the girl dresses like a middle aged blind woman.**

**Life is ok, I guess. I still remember what you said to me. It meant a lot. I don't even remember if I thanked you. If I didn't then I'm thanking you now because, well, nobody has ever listened like that. HE who must not be named, aka the Neanderthal, aka the burly football player with an empty cranium, aka the bane of my life, has been a little quiet recently. I think there's something football related going on and heavens I do NOT know about that. Finn seems to have eaten less of my baked goods and I haven't heard him banging around on his drums as much so my guesses must be correct – go figure.**

**I hope that everything is going well over at Preppy School. I think I'm at the point where I can joke about my past misgivings ala the letter we shall not dwell upon.**

**Tell me about your week. I'm currently sitting at my desk with my homework open and book creased at the spine at exactly the right section but I also have Vogue open on my left and Mercedes on Skype. Not conducive to productivity. You're lucky you're even getting a letter out of me – consider yourself special. I mean... whatever : )**

**Write soon,**

**Kurt**

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><p><strong>October 29th<strong>

_Dear Kurt,_

_Is this soon enough? I am going to be honest and tell you that I had to stuff my hand in my mouth to read most of your last letter. Firstly, because it was so funny and secondly because you don't hold back do you?_

_I wonder what you say about me/have said about me/will say about me when I'm not there which, I suppose, is all of the time. Oh no._

_You said you had a 'moment' with Rachel. Does this mean you're friends now? I refuse to believe you don't like her even a little bit – she may be a bit of a diva (or so it sounds) but – and please don't hurt me with your vicious vicious words – you DO sound like you have many things in common. It sounds like a beautiful duet. I presume you styled her well. What did you wear in the end?_

_You would be proud of me, Kurt. I asked my Mom to purchase some of the hair product you sent me and I have to admit that it's incredible. I have to keep it tidy for school and by tidy I mean, as you so kindly alluded to, under a lot of product. That sachet is honestly what I like to call – magic! Thank you so much for thinking of me during your shopping trip – I know your mind must have been so firmly set on your bargain hunting. You really must teach me your tricks. I see something I like, I buy it. Nothing else really goes through my mind which is probably why you'd burn, maul or take scissors to half of my wardrobe. I hope that day never comes. ;)_

_The Warblers are well, thank you. Wes has us focusing on something a little different right now – hip hop. Don't laugh. Well, I say hip hop. It's really a fusion of random songs he has found covered by other acapella groups online which he had listened to religiously until he is able to transfer their melodies and harmonies to our arrangements and AS IF BY MAGIC, the next afternoon we're in the Senior Commons strutting to Bills Bills Bills. I do a mean Beyonce impersonation. Not. Still, it's fun. I like to get a little gangsta ever now and then. ;)_

_I hated reading how you didn't sing your heart out in a contest because of homophobic stupidity. Your father sounds wonderful and such a good guy so I'm sure he told you that you shouldn't worry and that you should do what you love. Be careful though. I do understand your wish to protect yourself – you need to be cautious. The same goes for the football guy. I'm pleased he seems to be distracted. You don't deserve to look over your shoulder at school. I know how that feels and it sucks. Keep that courage and remember that you have just as much right as he has to walk those corridors._

_On a depressing note, my Dad's co-worker has tickets to see the Buckeyes. Ordinarily this news would have me rocking out to something awesome and digging out my team colors but not this time because (LUCKY ME) I have to attend the game with my dad's co-workers. This means Blaine on his best behaviour. I wish I had someone with me at these things, someone who I could roll my eyes at and just know they were on my side. Still, I get a free game out of it so that's a plus – right?_

_Unless it's another of my Dad's attempts at butching me up and reminding me 'what it is to be a man'..._

_Tell me about your week and never be afraid to talk to me about anything that's bothering you. I want to help. I often wish I had someone around to do that with so if you feel the same and trust me then I'd be honoured to be a friendly ear/eye : )_

_I know this may come across as creepy and/or weird and/or self indulgent and/or big headed but it isn't meant in any of those ways at all – I promise – but we had our head shots taken at school and we always get a set of four. I have one for our homeroom wall (it's a Dalton staple), one went to my Grandparents and the other to my parents who frame it and hang it above our fireplace leaving one spare. I know we said we wouldn't swap photographs of ourselves but our rules have all been ... complicated now so I presumed it would be ok._

_I don't know what you'd do with it – gasp in shock at the cheesiness of it and hide it away back in this envelope never to be viewed again or perhaps you'll use it warn off birds... either way, I thought we could swap. Is that something you'd like to do?_

_I wanted to ask – how is your Dad? Is he recovering ok?_

_I'm now getting back to my Latin homework – yes, we do Latin at Dalton. Whereas you shall have a useful language in French to utilise on a day to day basis, I shall have mastered a dead language with absolutely no application in the modern world unless I deign to follow in my father's footsteps and study the law. Oh well..._

_Lorem velit,_

_Blaine_

**[SEE PICTURE FROM LINK]**

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><p><strong>November 10th<strong>

**Mon Ami,**

**See my expert use of French in modern day? ;) I kid.**

**First off, you asked what I wore for our duet. It is possibly the most beautiful outfit I own and I WILL say so myself – oh yes! It's a custom made silver suit. I made it with my own fair and daily moistured hands, which people find shocking until I demonstrate the level of my fashion genius and then they understand! ;) I shall have to show you sometime... well, I mean I could send a photograph?**

**Urgh. Football. If the sounds that come from my Dad and Finn when they 'watch the game' together are anything to go by then I think my delicate eardrums are well protected as far away from those kinds of crowds as physically possible. These babies have to put up with Rachel's screeching on a day to day basis so they need their rest ...**

**Speaking of. How dare you? Friends? With Rachel? Never. I'd sell my D&G raincoat before I admit such a thing. All I will say is that she is mildly more tolerable recently... mildly. We do sound exceptional together though, that I will accept.**

**Back to football though. How did the game go? I hope you stood tall and scowled at the stuffed shirts. I could teach you a thing or two about the 'bitch please' glare – works like a treat, especially when you have to put up with Santana Lopez on a daily basis and even Noah Puckerman. You saw him, right? The guy's a mountain and guaranteed to say about a hundred potentially offensive things within an hour, which means he's not a stranger to the odd oblivious (or not) homophobic joke. He's not cruel, he's just an idiot. I've perfected a particular 'look' that I'm thinking about patenting...**

**Even though I'm not a massive fan of sport, I do have talent. I told you about my time in the school football team didn't I? Kurt Hummel: Kicker Extraordinaire. To be honest, watching sport takes away precious Next Top Model/Mad Men watching time but I am a fan of scarves and I understand they're part of the costume. Scarves are the easiest way to sass up an outfit.**

**Thank you for asking about my Dad. He's doing ok. Carole is ever the dutiful lady friend (she refuses to let me refer to her as my dad's 'girlfriend' as, in her words, 'when a woman can recall posters of The Osmonds on her wall as a girl then in 2010 she ceases to have the right to still refer to herself as one!' I asked 'who on Earth are The Osmonds?' and she rolled her eyes.) and I am keeping my beady eye on him. No longer does my father eat like a heathen. The doctor says he's doing well and he has people covering shifts at work so he can rest. We watched a movie together the other night and I think he liked spending time just the two of us. If he can put up with 'The Devil Wears Prada' (at one point he even said 'don't you have a jacket like that?') for me, he must be a dad worth keeping around, right? ;)**

**About 'him'. He's around more. I hate it but I can hardly change school and no matter how many ways I've imagined hiring a hit man or summoning some form of innate magical powers to expel him from reality, unfortunately I'm stuck with him in my life.**

**If I'm honest, it's getting to me. I won't let anyone at school see because I can't, can I? They barely even notice that other people exist beyond the little scope of their tragically twisted lives and incestuous relationships so I'm left to climb this hill alone. I have my Dad and Mercedes and dare I say it, Rachel. I have Finn too, I guess, when he's not tied up in his own silly excuse for a 'love life' or torturing himself over agonising decisions concerning football versus Glee. Yes, the age old struggle. God. 'He' cornered me in the corridor yesterday because apparently I was 'in his way'. Surely he could come up with something more creative. He names his fists. They're all the lowest form of humanity if you can even bestow such a title on them. I don't care what they do with their pathetic little lives but I just wish they'd disappear out of mine. What did I do to deserve being treated like dirt? Nothing. I wish I could just make them disappear.**

**MOVING ON.**

**Now feel special, Blaine, because I do NOT do this for anyone but Mercedes agreed to be my very own David Bailey. A couple of hours of Photoshop later and the enclosed is the result. You're not creepy at all and I wish I had a Preppy shot in a lovely Preppy blazer like yours but alas I do not so this is as good as you're going to get. My hair isn't right and I look slightly weird but my shirt is exceptional so silver lings etc : )**

**Use this to warn off birds though and you may end up writing to yourself. I suggest the most prominent place on your cork board. (Joking... why ever would you want THAT on your pin board?)**

**Your photo is very professional. I like the backdrop too. You look... dapper. You also look like you're trying to read my mind/staring into my soul... in a good way.**

**Anyway! Let me know how the game went!**

**Oh before I leave to go bowling with Mercedes (I have my personalised bowling shoes packed – my bedazzler is so very handy!), I thought we could start something. How about we ask random questions for the other to answer and then the other answers it in their letter? A kind of 'get to know you'? Mercedes and I only realised on Thursday that we were both enormous Grey's Anatomy fans and have scheduled a marathon night. We have been friends for so long now and NEVER KNEW THIS ABOUT EACH OTHER. I thought it might be nice to fill in some gaps or ask those questions you never really ask... what do you think? I'll go ahead and ask a question anyway.**

**Bien à toi,**

**Kurt**

**PS: How do you take your coffee? [Not that I'll ever need this information but, hey, it's like 'how do you take your eggs?' – it defines a person.]**

**[SEE PICTURE FROM LINK]**

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><p><strong>November 16th<strong>

_Kurt,_

_This is a short one. I promise a typically long letter next time but it's our Mid Term time and I'm swamped. I can't even see my bedroom door through the books and papers. At our weekly Warblers study session today, I tried to start an impromptu number to lighten spirits and Wes kicked me out. Kicked. Me. Out._

_I hope you're ok. Please don't think I'm being rude and skimming over your last letter. I will write as soon as my final exam is done at the end of this week. I promise. Please be safe. I mean, take care. At least know there's a caffeine buzzed stress head in lounge pants you'd cringe at sitting thinking of you. I hope it's ok to say that. Is it ok to say that?_

_Your photo... I don't think I can really comment because in my current state, I'm feeling overly emotional and a little on edge so I'm likely to say things I shouldn't. It is definitely on my cork board though, you'll be pleased to hear. Don't you dare comment on your hair – it's a thing to behold. In a good way._

_The game was painful, long, tedious and tiring. I tried to zone out, I really did. Dad talked about my Summer job, the job I don't want which pinpoints the future I do not picture for myself. I haven't told anyone but I have an audition for a job at Six Flags next Summer. You're the only person I've told. The audition isn't for months but I don't know how to tell him so maybe I'll tell my mom first and she can break the news. Seeing the disappointment in his face is a little more than I can handle right now._

_You need to patent your 'look' and let me have the rights. Teach me your wise ways, Kurt Hummel. I think I need them. I'm more of a 'smile and see how it goes' kind of guy... or I just gloss over it all and pretend the world's a beautiful place._

_Expect another letter from me in a week. There's no need to reply to this one unless you want to!_

_Also, you'll notice that this is a parcel and not just a letter ;)_

_Per ardua ad astra,_

_Blaine_

_PS: Medium Drip. You can decide what that says about me._

_PPS: Favourite childhood memory?_

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><p><strong>November 22nd<strong>

**BLAINE ANDERSON YOU SENT ME A PRESENT.**

**Not a traditional opening to a letter, I know, but OH MY GOD. It's beautiful. I wore it to school today because the weather is perfect for a scarf so long and so warm. I have a diagonal button-up navy blue coat that looks so good with grey and apparently red too.**

**I'm a fan of stripes too. How did you know?**

**Your little note was... cute. Can I say THAT? So out of character for me. I'm shivering here at how cheesy that sounds but what the hell. It was. I may think like Anna Wintour and worship the ground that the late Alexander McQueen walked upon but that does not mean I wouldn't wear your present. You must be insane. The wool is EXPENSIVE, it's kind to my skin, it's so warm that I don't think I'll remove it all Winter and that is a great honor, Blaine. I never wear the same outfit twice.**

**I'll keep my eye on the mailbox for your next letter- I'm sure my Dad thinks I'm intercepting suspicious post. I'm sure he's onto my subscription to that bondage wear website but, like I said, he wouldn't understand that it is purely for fashion purposes. I mean, god. I don't go on websites like... THAT for THOSE things.**

**Don't worry, you can say whatever you wish. Thank you for what you said. It does mean a lot even if it is a shock to the system to hear things like that. I'm lucky to have someone to talk to who is... like you.**

**Good luck with all of your midterms.**

**Votre ami dévoué,**

**Kurt**

**PS: Can I answer that question in my next letter, please? I want to write my story in full.**

**PPS: What is your chat handle? FYI: getoffofmyrunway : )**

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><p><strong>~TBC<strong>

**Extra Information : **

_**If ANY of this is wrong, blame my useless job application addled brain and Google ;)  
>- I know many of you will already know these but I'm including them JUST incase!<strong>_

Lorem velit – best wishes (Latin)  
>Mon Ami – My friend (French)<br>Bien à toi – Best Wishes (French)  
>Per ardua ad astra – Through difficulties to the stars (Latin)<br>Votre ami dévoué – Your Devoted Friend (French) [this may technically be a little bit wrong, I apologise if so]


	8. November Through Till December

**Author's Notes**

_So this is the second part of their 'strictly letters' period. While writing this part, I just wanted to HUG them both. I hope you're READING INTO EVERY LITTLE THING THEY'RE SAYING. Trying to write continuous dialogue in the form of letters with two people who haven't technically met and to keep it subtle BUT developing... safe to say it's tricky. Hope it's working...!  
><em>

_Thank you so very much to those who have sent me messages on tumblr, LJ and for the kindness and glorious reviews. You have kept me writing. _O_nce again, thank you ever so much to **whenidance** for her help with my Britishisms and general - to those who have sent me messages saying you've sought out penpal services etc BECAUSE of this story - you have no idea how happy it makes me. BE SAFE and may you be happy in snail mail xxx  
><em>

_There are more ADDED extras again! Please pay attention to DATES a little too. It's not exceptionally important but gives a definite idea of pacing and gaps in time._

**PLEASE NOTE: THESE CHAPTERS ARE MUCH BETTER READ AT MY LIVEJOURNAL AS THEY CONTAIN GRAPHICS. YOU REALLY MISS OUT IF YOU CAN'T SEE THEM! Please follow the link in my profile!**

**ALSO - THERE IS SOME STRUCK OUT TEXT (also much better read at LJ) - I'd put it in [] for your reference but STILL it's all much prettier and lovelier over at LJ!**

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><p><em>November 26th<em>

_Kurt!_

_You liked the scarf? I'm so happy. I have one just like it but PLEASE don't be put off because you won't be walking down the high street and see others wearing them UNLESS they're Dalton alumni. It's a Dalton scarf from our school merchandise shop so you can consider yourself an honorary Dalton student ;)_

_You wore it to school? Wow, Kurt, I didn't think you'd wear it, what with you being so much more knowledgeable about fashion than me. I didn't think you'd actually WEAR it. That's amazing._

_Midterms were awful. I think I aced Latin, Math and English Lit but European History – oh god, it took a plate of brownies to get over that nightmare. It was a week of misery but my parents went away for a few days so when my exams were over I took over the family room, commandeered the couch and lay around for an entire day watching (randomly) old reruns of the Golden Girls followed by some awful made for TV movie about a family at Christmas who acquired a magical maid – Christmas movies already! Awful, right? I ate so much and drank a disgusting amount of Diet Coke. I may have been alone and missing company but it was... AMAZING._

_It sucked though because when my Dad got home, I decided to tell him about Six Flags and he wasn't happy. We may have had a fight. Apparently, I don't know what's good for me and my choices are 'flippant'. I just want to do what I love but he seems to think that I need to start planning for my future and, his words not mine, 'as some of your choices are dubious at best, it's sensible for you to think carefully about your future, Blaine'. Why can't he just see? I don't want to be a carbon copy of him nor do I want to deny who I am. Safe to say, I went to school the next day and made the most of dancing around the Senior Commons – we did a kick ass rendition of Misery by Maroon 5. Have you heard it? It's kind of... sexy, so I wasn't sure what the other Warblers would think but we jazzed it up and Jeff taught some of the guys a routine. I know you're part of our competition but I trust you – either that or we'll kick your asses and beat you fair and square ;) Kidding, kidding._

_So, how are things with Karofsky? Are we going to adopt the Voldemort style of not using his name? You said it was your 'hill to climb'. Kurt, you couldn't be more wrong. Trust me when I say that you are not alone in this. How serious is it? You've always talked about it upsetting you but it seems like it is getting worse and that's just not right, Kurt. Remember our phone call? You need to show him that he can't push you around and that nothing he does is ever going to change you because you're so strong. Please don't be afraid to talk to me. You truly can trust me, you know? I hope you know that, Kurt._

_You said you keep your eye on the mailbox... I check it morning and night. I've even spoken to our mailman. His name is Joe and he has a baby girl and a wife named Josephine. I made a joke and asked if their daughter was called Joanne or something to which he laughed and corrected me – apparently she's called Joan. Haha! I MADE A NEW FRIEND ;)_

_Can you believe it's nearly December? I can't wait for Christmas. Dalton's so beautiful in the Winter. Our housekeepers decorate the entire building with Poinsettias and Mistletoe (although there's hardly any point seeing as I'm sure I'm the only guy likely to have the potential of kissing anyone!) and there are fireplaces that are lit when it's really cold. I'm sure you'd love it, Kurt. It kind of makes me wish you could visit because I have a feeling you'd appreciate the ambiance and general cosiness. I know I do._

_Write soon and remember, if you want to talk about anything – you have someone here who will listen._

_Virtus,_

_Blaine_

_PS: I love your chat handle. Do I get a present for knowing which song it's from? ;) Mine is: WarblerBlaine – not very original I know but we all got them so we could chat together if we were all online, which we NEVER are. Does this mean we're branching out into technological communication because I approve..._

_PPS: Of course you can answer my question in your next letter! I can't wait to hear about baby Kurt. I bet you were the most fashionable kid on the playground. I bet you were born with biting wit too!_

_I'm asking another question because I'm feeling sneaky: What do you look for in a guy? (feel free to tell me to mind my own business)_

_PPPS: I know we scrapped our 'rules' when we talked on the phone so I wanted to give you my number. I hate the thought of anyone feeling alone or unhappy – especially you – so please, if you ever need anyone even if it's just to hear a friendly voice (I don't even know if my voice is friendly) then please don't hesitate to call. I've got your back if you need someone._

_Call me anytime._

* * *

><p><strong>November 30th<strong>

**Dear WarblerBlaine! (heehee)**

**I need to just say something right away because it needs to be said and usually I'm not as open about this stuff in real life but it's easier like this and I think, even in real life I'd say it.**

**You're sweet. Really sweet. Truly.**

**Thank you for what you said and for just offering to be someone I can talk to. I have friends, I know that, but I've told you a hundred times before that they all have their own dramas and there doesn't seem to be any room for anything else. If I asked, they'd be there and I know that if something went down, they'd be there too but you offered regardless and we haven't even spoken face to face. Thank you, Blaine.**

**The cut out letters... I opened the envelope and usually it's ME who stuffs my letters with confetti or pretty things but all of a sudden you shock me, Blaine, and get all crafty on me!**

**Were they meant to spell 'Courage'? I'm no Latin expert but that's what 'Virtus' means, right (as in the end of your previous letter)? Where do you come from? What magical land? What era?**

**Blaine Anderson, Où avez-vous été tous ma vie?**

**You say you suck at French – there's something to help you practice! ;)**

**FYI: I have your collage in my locker. Feel special. You have my permission.**

**Oh wow, I'm feeling a little more feisty today than usual. I may have had a go at Mr Schue. He gave us a ridiculous task in Glee Club – Girls vs Boys. Seriously, it has been done the world over and that is the level of creativity this guy has. Usually he'll give us a word and we'll crassly theme an entire week's project around it and pretend he had a clever idea all along when really he's just winging it. He means well, I know that, but sometimes it's so repetitive. I mean, it has taken us nearly a YEAR to wean the guy off Journey and his infamous rap numbers but his recycled lesson plans are driving me nuts. I make my living singing girl's songs – what is so weird and 'alternative' about a boy singing a girl's song? I don't understand. Still, he seemed to be pleased with himself and as the boys were less than enthused with my ideas regarding wardrobe, I suggested a mash-up with something a little more 'manly' as Artie so eloquently put it () and there it was.**

**I had a run in with Karofsky today. Tina (I told you about Tina, didn't I?) and I were discussing this Winter's trends (Note to Blaine: chunky knits and neutrals are very much 'now') and clearly 'he's' not only opposed to homosexuality but fashion too – what an idiot. Even Puckerman wears labels. He pushed me against a locker. It wasn't the first time and it certainly won't be the last – he's not that creative – but it's getting to me. Mr Schue saw. HOLY HELL the man has eyes. Honestly, if I stood in front of some of the teachers in this school with a t-shirt with the words 'I'M BULLIED EVERY DAY BECAUSE OF WHO I AM' they'd still just smile and walk on by. Ms Sylvester's the only one who notices I think and I once saw her take a pair of safety scissors to a kid's ponytail – just because. She's more than capable of getting involved and has once or twice but Mr Schue eventually realized that homophobia is not something that's just inevitable. WAY TO GO MR SCHUE.**

**He asked me if I was ok. Wow.**

**I'm not, Blaine. I'm really not. I hate walking down those corridors now and knowing that, at any minute, someone can just hurt me. Why is that fair? The entire place is getting to me. They can't even get a decent sub in to teach French when Ms Cardot is ill. The guy we had today looked no older than Finn and shared his level of intellect too. Kill me.**

**I just wish I could get away from this place. Eventually, Mr Schue changed the lesson plan and used the grey matter between his ears to concoct a new plan – boys sing girl's songs and girls sing boys songs. Terribly stereotypical of course because in the land of Mr Schue – 'boys songs' equal classic rock and girl's songs equal Dianna Ross or Britney Spears. It was I who had to scream to be heard when all we wanted to do was pay homage to Ms Spears but we'll not even go there – I'm still bitter about it.**

**I'm just frustrated with everything. I'm trying not to be. I try to do as many things that make me happy as I can but they're being overshadowed by clouds, so imposing and they're bringing me down. I'm so full of ennui and melancholy and I truly don't know what to do for the best.**

**As a break from the depressing – my story!**

**I promised my favorite childhood memory and here it is.**

**When I was small – very small – my mom used to have friends over for tea. She had a tea set passed down in her family, all dainty and thin bone china crockery with the prettiest pattern. I think it might have been antique but I'm not too sure. I guess I must have watched her and learned from her because when I got a little older, I asked her for a tea set of my own. For my fourth birthday she bought me one and I remember it being the most wonderful gift I've ever received. I think my dad half expected me to want to play ball and roll in the mud like other four year old boys but I liked to be clean and like to have nice things. I still do.**

**Anyway, one Sunday, I asked my mom to show me how to host a tea party. She talked me through everything and even taught me how to make the sweetest selection of mini cupcakes and sandwiches – so very British! We set up a table in the garden on the lawn and sat in the sun as she taught me how to infuse tea with real tea leaves and how to politely offer refreshments to another person.**

**We practiced and ate and laughed all afternoon until my Dad got home and she made him join. It's a sight I'll never forget. My mom was tall but she was dainty and had such a slight frame so she fit perfectly on the small chairs but my Dad's all limbs and trucker caps so the image of him trying to sit on a miniature plastic chair is one that will stick with me forever. I practiced my polite phrases on him and poured him tea. I just remember my mom smiling at him and then at me and looking so proud. Her eyes were shining and the sun was beaming down on her in the most beautiful way. My dad's face was so serene and content – I don't think I've ever seen him look as happy.**

**Ok, I guess I need to stop writing. I don't talk about her a lot. I miss her. That is my favorite memory. I still have the tea set but it's packed away in the attic. I do host the world's best tea parties though – of this you must be sure : )**

**Congratulations on your midterms being over. I am eternally jealous of your day. [I'd have made raspberry tea and scones. Maybe a soufflé if you liked them. Not to say I'd be invited or I'd be there because that's weir] It all sounds fantastic.**

**Thank you for your number. I won't bother you and I don't drink so you're spared any chances of drunken Kurt or any such indiscretions but, just, thank you.**

**Je t'embrasse,**

**Kurt**

**PS: SOMEONE'S NOSY.**

**Blaine. You really don't need to ask that question.**

**PPS: Now your question: What do YOU look for in a guy?**

**And since you got two, I do too. It's only fair. Although, this one is a little full on so, as you said, feel free to tell me to mind my own business. I'd understand totally if you didn't want to talk about it.**

**What happened at your old school that made you leave?**

* * *

><p><em>December 4th<em>

_Coucou Kurt!_

_(How did I do with my conversational French?) :P_

_FIRST OF ALL. Oh my god, Kurt! I loved your message to Joe on the envelope. He asked about you and I told him all about our letters and he says he likes the sound of you. He wanted me to tell you that he DID handle your letter with love and care and that he wishes you a Very Happy Holiday! You're adorable._

_You'll realize this is another parcel and NO it's not gloves to match your scarf ;) It's a CD. Remember how we promised to send mix CDs or recordings at opportune times? Well, here's my contribution!_

_You talked about girl's songs and your Glee Club teacher. Well, we sing female songs ALL OF THE TIME, Kurt. I know you told me about you throwing a note once to protect your father (which I still think is a crime against music as you're depriving someone of your voice!) and that it was a girl's song so I know the subject must have been a touchy one but it seems your voice must suit them and why shouldn't you be able to sing exactly what moves you, exactly which song feels right and proper in your heart? You're an ARTIST. It's what we artists do. (I was going to add 'darling' on the end of that as it sounded cute and charming but I thought that'd be a bit gay, even for us – yes?)_

_I digress. The recording is of our cover of Katy Perry's Teenage Dream. It's one of very favorite arrangements and it's personally one of my personal favorites. Wes even lets us move – yes, move! No longer are we stilted porcelain birds performing like puppets (look at my alliteration go!), we look and sound like rockstars when we perform this song. It's by a female (a kick ass female) and it's amazing. I really hope you enjoy it._

_Your mom sounds beautiful. It doesn't surprise me that THAT day is one you remember so vividly and cherish. I bet she would be very proud of all that you have achieved and all that you are. I have to say, your Dad sounds like one hell of a guy._

_You asked about my old school. I thought I'd answer that here as I don't want to make my PS: section out of proportion._

_I went to a different school up until a year and a half ago. It was a short walk from my home and was very much like yours, I think. I liked it there for the most part. I had a few friends and I was a member of all of the creative clubs and took piano lessons on a Wednesday evening. I was talented in most of my classes and hit good grades but it was when I started realizing I felt differently from other people that the trouble started._

_I knew I wasn't like a lot of the other guys. My friend Ethan was always talking about girls, this one girl especially who he really liked, and the things he'd say just didn't resonate with me. I didn't see this girl in that way. Yes, she was pretty and her hair was spectacularly long and curly but there was nothing about her that made me want to 'jump her bones' as Ethan had put it back then. I knew I was gay quite soon after that and tried to come to terms with it myself. I wasn't too worried about it all because I was so busy and fulfilled at school and didn't feel the need to date but there was a dance at school – Sadie Hawkins dance. I'd become friends with another guy who I knew to be gay – Daniel. He was short with blonde curls and big brown eyes and the sweetest smile you could imagine. We didn't like each other in THAT way I don't think but it was nice to finally find someone to talk to. We hadn't known each other for long but we became close quite quickly and people began to talk – the Neanderthals as you put it perfectly. There was a group of guys and Ethan was friends with them too. I suppose you could call them the 'popular' guys, much like 'he who should not be named'._

_Daniel and I went to the dance together. I was really looking forward to it as I hadn't attended a lavish event before and I went to great effort to look as smart as possible in my rented tux and bow tie. I felt good if a little bit nervous but when I met up with Daniel, he looked excited too so I felt on Cloud 9, as if I was able to do all of the things the other guys could do – it didn't matter that I liked boys!_

_The dance was your typical awkward high school party. Terrible music, awful contaminated finger food, cheap decorations and those tense moments where you think NOBODY is going to get up to dance but all in all it was fun. Daniel and I spent most of the night talking, laughing at some of the terribly dressed people and eventually danced towards the end of the night. There wasn't any trouble and honestly, Kurt I was so happy. I remember thinking 'hey this is so easy'._

_We'd made arrangements to be picked up by Daniel's father as you know my Dad. I didn't want any uncomfortable moments in the car. We waited outside in the dark for a little while. We were standing quite close as there was a breeze and Daniel had said he was cold so I offered him my jacket. As I did, the guys I mentioned previously came around the corner and began shouting names at us. I'm not even willing to recount the names but I'm sure, regrettably, you're well aware and can use your imagination. We ignored them and Daniel stood a little closer to me – he was a small kid and I could sense that he was scared. As they got closer, one of them shoved me and called me 'disgusting'. I lost it, Kurt. I shouted back and told him he was ignorant and that he didn't know what he was talking about, I called him names back and stood in front of Daniel to keep him safe._

_One of the guys shouted 'oh look, he's standing up for his boyfriend' and before I knew it, well, they beat the living crap out of us. I remember seeing Daniel out of the corner of my eye, seeing him fall forward and wrap his arms around his waist. He looked so small and so delicate. I hated it. They punched me in the stomach so hard that I couldn't breathe so anything after that was too much of a blur. Daniel's father found us and took us to the hospital and a week later, my mom and dad argued through the night and woke me to tell me that I wouldn't be returning back there._

_A week later, I was fitted for my Dalton uniform. Simple as that._

_I guess I hate that you have to go through the same torture. I pray that you never ever have to go through what I went through. I hope that you're safe. You're so much stronger than me. I ran. I didn't stand up to them or have my chance to show them just how wrong they were._

_Please be safe._

_Mes amours,_

_Blaine_

_x_

_PS: **[Kurt, you really don't need to ask that question either...]**_

_If you must know though, I like expressive eyes and someone who can make me smile._

_PPS: Kurt, I can totally see what you crossed out, you know? Maybe use whiteout in the future ;)_

_For the record, if you'd have turned up with raspberry tea and scones, I'd have worshipped you forever. I happen to love soufflé too ;) I bet we'd have had the best day. We could have mocked the movie together!_

* * *

><p>December 10th<p>

**[IMAGE IS MISSING - See LJ]**

* * *

><p><em>December 18th<em>

_Kurt,_

_I'm a little worried. I haven't heard from you since the end of November and we have been so good at writing so quickly to one another. Maybe it's me being presumptuous..._

_I just wanted to write to make sure you're ok and I hadn't said anything to upset you or make you feel uncomfortable._

_I want to say something but I don't really know if I should. I think I'm going to, only because I'm worried that this is the reason you haven't replied._

_I know we have been learning more about one another and I feel so comfortable writing to you and opening up to you. I like having someone I can be honest with because we have always been honest with each other, haven't we?_

_I felt recently like we'd been a little... closer. You know? Is that the reason why you're not writing back because maybe I've been reading into things and taking your written words entirely the wrong way? It's difficult to feel the tone of a person's words but I've always felt like I've been able to distinguish your snappy sarcasm from your sincerity and your funny phrases from your affectionate ones. I can translate French and every single thing you've ever said to me means a lot. I really feel like we've become friends and I know it didn't start out simply but when does ANYTHING?_

_I hope that you don't think it's all a little weird or that my story about my old school was too much. I supposed I'm left at an impasse – I'm left to guess why you haven't written back and I'm rambling._

_I apologize. I just hope you're ok._

_If you're not, Kurt, then please, if you need someone – I'm here._

_Love, Blaine_

_x_

* * *

><p>19.12.10 19:38pm<p>

**_WarblerBlaine is online_**

**_Getofofmyrunway is offline_**

20.12.10 20:15pm

**_WarblerBlaine is online_**

20.12.10 20.25pm

**_Getofofmyrunway is online_**

20.12.10 20.26pm

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt?

20.12.10 20.27pm

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, are you there?

20.12.10 20.28pm

**_Getofofmyrunway is offline_**

* * *

><p><strong>TRANSLATIONS: Please correct me if any are wrong and blame me but also Google ; )<br>**

Virtus – Courage (Latin)

Où avez-vous été tous ma vie? – Where have you been all my life? (French)

Je t'embrasse – With Love (French)

Coucou – Hey as in Hi (French)

Mes amours – With Love (French)


	9. Online

**Author's Notes**

_Now presenting my favourite Chapter I've written so far for this story. I wrote a lot of this a week or so ago so you're getting quicker updates now - thank goodness!_

_Just to reitterate, you'll have noticed there's a lot of general canon (and sneaky canon like phrases) but it is slightly out of order. I hope it's clear how it's progressing... !_

_Thank you to Lucie, Kerry and Hannah for reading this over for me and ensuring I'm not a completely English, that I understand the American school system, that I can write an American address and for making sure it all flows nicely. They're all pretty fabulous !_

_THANK YOU, and a massive one, goes to those who have left the most gorgeous reviews. It's a pleasure to write this and the fact someone likes it is plain wonderful._

**AGAIN - I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH- PLEASE FOLLOW THE LINK IN MY PROFILE TO LJ FOR THE IMAGE AT THE VERY END OF THIS CHAPTER. The rest is very much the same no matter where you read it but the image is PRETTY IMPORTANT for this Chapter!**

I really hope you enjoy : )

* * *

><p>DECEMBER 21st<p>

21.12.10 18.47pm

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt?

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt I know you're there. Are you ok? I understand if there's something I've done that may have upset you but please, I need to know so I can put things right. If it's not me then if you need someone to talk to, please know I'm here. I'm worried about you.

**WarblerBlaine:** Look, Kurt, you have my number. Call me if you need someone. I'm always here.

21.12.10 21.04pm

**Getoffofmyrunway**: Blaine?

**_WarblerBlaine is offline_**

* * *

><p>DECEMBER 22nd<p>

22.12.10 19:22pm

_**Getoffofmyrunway is online**_

_**WarblerBlaine is online**_

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I'm so sorry I made you think I hadn't replied because of something you'd done.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I feel so awful.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I read your letter and you weren't online and I knew you'd be at school and then didn't want to call on the evening because I wasn't sure if your parents would intercept the call and things would be weird

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, are you ok?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I'm fine. Just stuff happened.

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh thank god. I didn't think I'd done anything because I wracked my brains and recapped every single thing I'd written to you and nothing made sense.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Karofsky kissed me.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kissed you?

**WarblerBlaine:** What do you mean?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** He kissed me as in an actual kiss although not exactly one I wished to happen.

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh my god. What happened?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I did what you said. I read your story and it made me cry. I can't believe what you went through. I'm so sorry Blaine.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I couldn't stand to think of anyone being hurt so badly just because of what they are so when I went to school the next day I'd just finished second period and was at my locker and HE appeared out of nowhere and pushed me so hard.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I didn't know what to do so I just ran after him and caught up with him in the boy's locker rooms (not my finest decision but I was angry)

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I told him exactly what I thought of him and asked what the hell his problem was.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** He came out with a lame ass reason about thinking I liked him or was going to watch him change. I mean COME ON, as if I'd be attracted to some chubby guy who sweats too much and is gonna be bald by the time he's thirty. I mean, he's a low life. His entire existence is so pathetically focused on trying to push others down and I snapped, Blaine.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** He got in my face and I just remember thinking 'stand tall. Don't let him see you're scared' and then I did something stupid. He said I shouldn't push him and waved his fist in my face so I told him to do it. Hit me because nothing is ever going to stop me being who I am.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** As if he thinks he can punch the gay out of me. ARE THESE PEOPLE REALLY THAT STUPID?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** But then he kissed me.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, I'm so sorry. That's just wrong. So wrong. What did you do?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I pushed him off me. He just looked... sort of helpless. I could barely breathe but then he left. Running from himself.

**WarblerBlaine:** So he's gay? Or at least maybe questioning?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I really don't know Blaine, but he tried to kiss me again straight after. AS IF I'D JUST PUCKER UP. OH YEA AFTER WEEKS OF THROWING ME AGAINST A LOCKER AND THREATENING ME THE FIRST THING I WANT TO DO IS MAKE OUT WITH YOU IN THE BOYS LOCKER ROOM.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, he didn't hurt you did he?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** No. No, Blaine he didn't hurt me.

**WarblerBlaine:** Thank god.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** He just scares me. Really scares me. I told Mr Schue because he saw him push me up against a locker a couple of days after too.

**WarblerBlaine**: WHAT? Kurt. You need to take action against this guy. You're at risk.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I know that Blaine, do you not think I know that but the school wouldn't do anything until I had proof and evidence because as Ms Sylvester said... he'd just lie and say 'I didn't do that' and the school board could do nothing about it.

**WarblerBlaine:** So what did your teacher say?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** We had a meeting with Coach Sylvester.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** A couple of days before he asked me if I'd told anyone what had happened. AS IF I'D BROADCAST IT. God.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I told him I hadn't because it's not as if I'm going to out him and risk more problems. I don't even know if he IS gay so it's not my place.

**WarblerBlaine:** You're a way better person than me.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Don't be crazy.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Anyway, he said if I told anyone he'd kill me.

**WarblerBlaine:** What?

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, please tell me you're not serious.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** No, I'm serious. I was so scared. I'm never going to let him beat me but you didn't see the way he said it... he was serious. I just felt so alone and conflicted because I wanted someone to tell me it was all going to be ok but I knew it wasn't.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, why didn't you tell me? I could have come to visit you, maybe safety in numbers or something.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** No. Blaine, I can't ask you to do that. You don't owe me anything. I can't expect you to be some knight in shining armor turning up to protect my honor.

**WarblerBlaine:** I would have come, you know? I would have been there if you needed someone.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Thank you.

**WarblerBlaine:** You don't need to thank me.

**WarblerBlaine:** Tell me what happened next...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Well, my dad proposed to Carole.

**WarblerBlaine:** WHAT? MY GOD, KURT. This is like a soap opera.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I'm so pleased my life amuses you so much.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, I'm joking. You must know I'm not serious, keep going...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** My dad proposed to Carole and cornered Finn and I in the corridor at school to tell us. So, we're going to be a family now. The Hummel-Hudsons. How weird is that?

**WarblerBlaine:** Are you happy about it?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I think so. My dad is so happy, he told me he wants to dance at his wedding and take Carole to Hawaii! She was all lit up and sparkly with happiness so how could I not be ecstatic for them.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** They were so cute, Blaine. I haven't seen my dad as happy for so long.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** My trunk of wedding magazines has been put to use though because GUESS WHO IS THE WEDDING PLANNER?

**WarblerBlaine:** So many things to say about that one question but let me take a wild guess – YOU?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I've got it all in hand. I'm going with a traditional Winter theme because, well, it's traditional and beautiful. There are going to be doves and the most incredible flower sprays you've ever seen and the Glee Club are going to perform. It's going to be perfect!

**WarblerBlaine:** I'm so happy for you Kurt, that's amazing. I bet it'll be incredible.

**WarblerBlaine:** But, just to ask – you have a trunk of wedding magazines?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes. Of course.

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh. Right. Ok : )

**Getoffofmyrunway:** The same day that Finn asked me if he could have some help with writing his best man speech (god help us all) was the day HE pushed me against my locker and stole my cake topper. I'd had it customized and everything.

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh Kurt...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I think that was the most frightened I've felt. Even when he had his meat hooks on me, I was scared but this time it was worse. He just looked at me and I didn't know what he was going to do. It was like he was entirely unpredictable and I was terrified. Terrified of what he COULD do.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Coach Sylvester found out and she suspended him.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Well, Coach Sylvester arranged a meeting and invited HIS Dad and mine. His dad seemed like a stand up guy, a bit wet, but we can't all be perfect. His dad seemed to think I wouldn't make it up and didn't argue when his son was kicked out of school so maybe he suspects something.

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh thank god.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** HE suggested that I liked him, that's why I was saying things about him...

**WarblerBlaine:** Well, he's not coming out any time soon.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Very funny, Blaine.

**WarblerBlaine:** I thought so ;)

**Getoffofmyrunway:** He's not though. He's so far deep in closet he's practically dusting the Narnia snow off his sneakers.

**WarblerBlaine:** He's not alone though. We both know how difficult it is to come to terms with things and understand why you're feeling what you're feeling.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes, Blaine, except I didn't maul someone with my lips and taunt them for weeks just to prove a point to myself.

**WarblerBlaine:** No, Kurt, that's not what I meant and you know it.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I know. I'm sorry.

**WarblerBlaine:** Don't apologize, it's good to talk about it.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Seriously. Thank you. Honestly.

**WarblerBlaine:** That's what friends are for.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** You're singing that out loud aren't you?

**WarblerBlaine:** Hahahahahahahahahaha.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh wow, Blaine. I was right wasn't I? We may not have met in real life properly but I think I know you quite well regardless.

**WarblerBlaine:** We're getting off topic...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Ok bossy. That's my job!

**WarblerBlaine:** ;) Go on...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** The entire Glee Club said they'd rally around and act like the secret service (Puck's words not mine). It was all quite sweet actually but even though it worked for a few days and Mike and Sam were ninjas in training, our schedules are different and there were always times when I was alone. It's not fair to expect everyone else to molly coddle me.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Well, HE ended up coming back though a few days later.

**WarblerBlaine:** What? What happened?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** The school board couldn't justify the suspension.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, that's ridiculous. Surely someone must be able to do something.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Hold your horses, Anderson. I'm not done yet!

**WarblerBlaine:** As you were...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Anyway, three days later, Coach Sylvester caught him pushing me against the wall and emptying my satchel on the floor. He threw it at my face. She took me into her office and had me sit there for a long time until she came back in and informed me that he'd been removed from the school premises and the school board would be alerted.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Safe to say, the next day, my dad and I were called in for a meeting and were informed that Karofsky wouldn't be returning to McKinley High for the remainder of the school year. Apparently he's not allowed on school property. Another kid complained against his behavior too so they had ammunition.

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, that's amazing news.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Well, reassuring, not quite amazing. Things could still change. I'd rather I hadn't had to endure more for action to be taken but I can't be ungrateful for their decision now can I?

**WarblerBlaine:** Not at all. I completely understand though. It's unfair and it's wrong that you had to go through so much before someone actually realized.

**WarblerBlaine:** But, Kurt why didn't you get in touch? Why did you ignore me on chat?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** As I said, I only received your letter a couple of days ago and I saw you on chat before I saw your letter. I just didn't want to talk to you about all of this because of what you went through.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I didn't want to bring back memories or burden you with all of my baggage when you have had such awful experiences. There's also the fact that I knew that if I talked to you then I'd just fall to pieces.

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh Kurt

**Getoffofmyrunway:** No, I just

**Getoffofmyrunway:** It just means a lot to me... this

**WarblerBlaine:** Ditto

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I sometimes don't really know how to respond to it

**WarblerBlaine:** What do you mean?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** You. Being so nice to me. You hardly know me

**WarblerBlaine:** I think you'd be surprised at how well you can get to know someone even if you haven't technically met. We've talked... a LOT

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Do you think so?

**WarblerBlaine:** I do

**WarblerBlaine:** I also think that I'd go so far as to say that you're pretty much my best friend and if that makes me a loser then so be it

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh my

**WarblerBlaine:** What is it?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I thought I was making it all up in my head. I didn't want to presume but I kind of feel the same way. I do know I have Mercedes and as much as it hurts to admit it – Rachel – but with you and I... it's different

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Can I tell you something?

**WarblerBlaine:** Anything. What is it?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I've just...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I've never been kissed before. Well, not one that really counted.

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh Kurt. I'm so sorry that it was forced on you.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yea well, we can't have everything.

**WarblerBlaine:** No. You didn't deserve that at all. You deserve someone to treat you with respect and affection and for your first kiss to be one you'll look back on and remember for it being special.

**WarblerBlaine:** You do know that it wasn't your actual first kiss though don't you?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** What do you mean?

**WarblerBlaine:** Well a kiss, a proper kiss, is returned. When two people kiss and mean it and it's consensual and full of emotion and meaning – that's a true kiss

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Well, I certainly haven't been kissed

**WarblerBlaine:** Don't ever count that, what HE did, as being something that matters. It wasn't a kiss

**Getoffofmyrunway:** You're right

**WarblerBlaine:** I know

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Big head

**WarblerBlaine:** You're so sweet

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Shut up

**WarblerBlaine:** I wish I could have been there. I'd have, I dunno...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** There's nothing you could have done, Blaine

**WarblerBlaine:** There are so many things, don't be crazy. Everyone needs someone to just BE there.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I know and you're sweet to say so but I was fine.

**WarblerBlaine:** No, Kurt it's not sweet, I'm being serious

**WarblerBlaine:** I wish I could have helped in some way

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Believe me you did... you do

**WarblerBlaine:** Really?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes, of course

**WarblerBlaine:** This is kind of weird isn't it?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Ok, now I'm getting all insecure

**WarblerBlaine:** WOAH WHY? Don't be!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Just, we get on really well

**WarblerBlaine:** Yes

**Getoffofmyrunway**: And we like writing to each other

**WarblerBlaine:** Definitely

**Getoffofmyrunway:** And we're friends

**WarblerBlaine:** Without a doubt

**Getoffofmyrunway:** And we HAVE met, kind of

**WarblerBlaine:** Well if you count a fleeting glance, yes

**Getoffofmyrunway:** And we have spoken on the phone

**WarblerBlaine:** That's true

**Getoffofmyrunway:** So, I just feel a little confused

**WarblerBlaine:** If this is all too... I don't know... if you feel uncomfortable then we can always... I don't know...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** NO.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** No! That's not at all what I meant

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I don't feel uncomfortable at all. Quite the opposite

**WarblerBlaine:** So why the insecurity? Why do you feel confused?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Because I feel like we...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I don't know, we don't live that far away from one another

**WarblerBlaine:** That's correct

**Getoffofmyrunway:** So why haven't we met?

**WarblerBlaine:** As in face-to-face?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Nail on the head

**WarblerBlaine:** We agreed that we'd write until Regionals.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Why did we agree that again?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Because it was a nice idea. We'd only written so far and we had all of the residual weirdness after our horrible miscommunication so it all seemed logical

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I don't think I like logic anymore

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, do you want to meet up?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I don't know

**WarblerBlaine:** Because if you do, I'm there. I mean, I look a mess right now but I'd get in my mom's car and I'd be there in an hour or two.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Blaine, it's dark

**WarblerBlaine:** And...?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** You're crazy

**WarblerBlaine:** Maybe, but if you want to then I have no argument

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I don't think I'd be able to deal with all of that right now

**WarblerBlaine:** Anything you want

**Getoffofmyrunway:** No. I want to. I can say things to you that I can't say to anyone so I'm trying to be open. I know I wasn't before with the whole Karofsky thing but sometimes I don't really know to spill my guts and

**WarblerBlaine:** Let someone in?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes

**WarblerBlaine:** It's hard

**Getoffofmyrunway:** It is

**WarblerBlaine:** But we've managed so far

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Very true

**WarblerBlaine:** But if you don't feel ready to meet up then maybe we should stick to our original plan?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Do you think it'd be the same?

**WarblerBlaine:** What would? Meeting face to face?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes. Do you think it would be awkward?

**WarblerBlaine:** Definitely

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh no

**WarblerBlaine:** JOKING, Kurt. I guess it might be but we'd be fine

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Can we try and by pass the awkwardness?

**WarblerBlaine:** How do you suggest we do that? Aren't we planning on meeting in the center of a show choir heat?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh god. I didn't think of it like that.

**WarblerBlaine:** Maybe we should meet beforehand? On the morning or the day before...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** That sounds nice.

**WarblerBlaine:** I have the perfect place

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh, do you now?

**WarblerBlaine:** Yes! We've already had the 'coffee order' discussion too so I'm more than prepared. It's called the Lima Bean, have you been there before?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh, only once with Mercedes. Do you go there a lot?

**WarblerBlaine:** Kind of. It's quite close to Dalton so a lot of the guys go and I was introduced to it last year.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I think I'd like that

**WarblerBlaine:** You would?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes. I think trying to meet or talk at Regionals would be impossible. I mean Rachel usually has some form of activity for us to do before the show which is aimed to calm us down and prepare us mentally for a performance but usually we just end up wanting to shove a sock in her mouth

**WarblerBlaine:** I seriously need to meet this girl

**Getoffofmyrunway:** No, Blaine. No you do not

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh, ok then!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Don't let the sweet smile and the granny cardigan fool you

**WarblerBlaine:** I won't. I'll be on guard

**Getoffofmyrunway:** :D

**WarblerBlaine:** You used a smiley

**Getoffofmyrunway:** And?

**WarblerBlaine:** It's odd, it seems strangely un-Kurt

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Wow

**WarblerBlaine:** Wow what?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I think you really do KNOW me

**WarblerBlaine:** How?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Because it felt strange typing it

**WarblerBlaine:** : )

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Now, see, you suit it

**WarblerBlaine:** Do I?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes. It seems natural coming from you

**WarblerBlaine:** I'm a smiley sort of guy

**WarblerBlaine:** I think

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I wonder if we'll get along

**WarblerBlaine:** WAIT... what?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** You and I

**WarblerBlaine:** Why wouldn't we?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** You might not like me.

**WarblerBlaine:** No chance

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I might think you're impossible

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh I think there's a strong chance of that

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Great. Am I going to have to pretend to like you?

**WarblerBlaine:** No you'll be so charmed you'll just fall in love with me

**WarblerBlaine:** I mean, you know what I mean...

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Ok. Subject change.

**WarblerBlaine:** Agreed.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Should we wear something distinguishable when we meet?

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt, you do remember we've seen each other don't you? I have your picture on my cork board... in a non-creepy way

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes. Blaine. I do... BUT I thought it might be fun. Like in the movies.

**WarblerBlaine:** What? Like in You've Got Mail?

**WarblerBlaine:** I love that movie.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** If we're on the topic of Meg Ryan movies, I personally prefer When Harry Met Sally

**WarblerBlaine:** I see the appeal but it frustrates me. They take way too long to get together. Plus, Tom Hanks is oddly handsome for an older guy

**Getoffofmyrunway:** It's called romance Blaine and ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

**WarblerBlaine:** Yea, I don't think I'm very good at that... romance

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Well, maybe you should take a leaf out of Billy Crystal's book

**WarblerBlaine:** Renting... : )

**Getoffofmyrunway:** So, what should we wear?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I can't remember what they used in You've Got Mail but I know he bailed on her then they agreed to meet and we can't do that

**WarblerBlaine:** No, of course not. I guess I'll be in my Dalton uniform so I can't wear anything too exciting

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh those blazers

**WarblerBlaine:** What's wrong with them?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** What's right with them?

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh I see the gloves come off now. We've hit that point in the friendship, have we?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** No, I'm just being honest. We've always been honest

**WarblerBlaine:** I'll pass on your comments to the Principal

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I'll provide sketches for an alternative option to navy with red piping

**WarblerBlaine:** I wouldn't put it past you! ; )

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Ok, so we're not going to wear anything distinguishable?

**WarblerBlaine:** I guess not then.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** We can discuss this all later at some point

**WarblerBlaine:** We can

**Getoffofmyrunway:** We still have time

**WarblerBlaine:** Speaking of, I was going to write this in my next letter but I have been accepted on the annual trip. A particular subject is awarded money for a field trip and this year it's Latin! We're going to Vatican City. ITALY!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** How cosmopolitan and cultured. I'm jealous!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** McKinley would never take us that far away

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Kids would procreate or something equally awful

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh no. Well, no chance of that happening at Dalton

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Dodged a bullet!

**WarblerBlaine:** Indeed

**WarblerBlaine:** So it'll mean I can't write for three weeks

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh, three weeks?

**WarblerBlaine:** Yep, we go to spend some time immediately after Christmas break and it bleeds into the beginning of the semester but we spend time in an Italian school and specialize in Latin studies. It should be incredible. It seemed to make my Dad happy so there's even an added appeal

**Getoffofmyrunway:** It sounds wonderful, Blaine

**WarblerBlaine:** I can send you a postcard.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Something pretty?

**WarblerBlaine:** Of course.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Do you own a digital camera?

**WarblerBlaine:** I do!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** You have to take photographs. When one goes to Italy, one does not go without a way of documenting every moment

**WarblerBlaine:** I'll send them to you

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I'd like that. When do you leave?

**WarblerBlaine:** In around a week and a half

**Getoffofmyrunway:** So, do you want to write before then?

**WarblerBlaine:** I don't think we could. Unless you'd like to

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I guess we should wait until you're home. Lay down some new rules...?

**WarblerBlaine:** Sounds like a plan!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** That's almost a month of not writing... maybe I'll actually read a book now that I'll have free time! (wink) Patti LuPone's new book is incredible. Have you read it?

**WarblerBlaine:** Is the sky blue?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Flawless taste right there

**WarblerBlaine:** *bow*

**Getoffofmyrunway:** You're actually doing it aren't you?

**WarblerBlaine:** No

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Yes you are

**WarblerBlaine:** How dare you make such assumptions?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Liar

**WarblerBlaine:** Pretty much ; )

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh. My mom's shouting. I think I have to go, Kurt

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Oh, ok.

**WarblerBlaine:** Um, well we'll write in January?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Sure. Yes. Fantastic

**WarblerBlaine:** If you need someone, if you need me, you only have to email or phone (International Call Rates be damned) and I'm here

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Thank you, Blaine

**WarblerBlaine:** Anytime

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Have a wonderful Christmas. I never did thank you for your Christmas card. It was very pretty. Like the lyrics choice, Baby it's Cold Outside – a personal favorite

**WarblerBlaine:** Flawless taste right there

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Hey now, that's my coined phrase, get your own

**WarblerBlaine:** ; )

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Shouldn't you be going, Blaine Anderson?

**WarblerBlaine:** I should! There's so much to say, so little time. I hope your father's wedding goes without a hitch – actually, with such a fantastic wedding coordinator, how could it not?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Why thank you... so true too

**WarblerBlaine:** She's shouting some more. I really have to go. Until January?

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Until January... and if you happen to be online before then, well we'll just have to break our rules

**WarblerBlaine:** Again

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Exactly

**WarblerBlaine:** : ) I like talking to you

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Who wouldn't?

**WarblerBlaine:** Hahaha

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I like talking to you too

**WarblerBlaine:** Oh! I get beyond the sarcasm! Result!

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Don't get clever. It doesn't happen often

**WarblerBlaine:** I'll make it a personal mission for the future. Take Care Kurt, I wish you a New Year you won't forget. I'll write on the plane home.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** I'll keep my eyes on the mailbox

**WarblerBlaine:** Bye, Kurt xx

**Getoffofmyrunway:** Goodbye Blaine

**Getoffofmyrunway:** x

* * *

><p>January 3rd<p>

**[MISSING IMAGE - See LJ]**

* * *

><p><strong><span>TRANSLATIONS:<span>**

Mi Manchi – I miss you (Italian) - (found in image)


	10. January Through Till February

**Author's Notes**

_This is the FINAL part of Chapter 7 and of their epic letter writing phase. As always, canon is there but is SLIGHTLY out of order and I've taken a FEW liberties with my imagination as far as special dates go ;)_

Thank you to these lovely ladies as always: _ **ccmskatechick** and **shareitwithme** _for their help with eradicating my Britishisms and generally being lovely! _THANK YOU to those who have left the most gorgeous reviews.  
><em>

_Next Chapter: Regionals...!_

_**AS BEFORE - PLEASE GO SEE THE 2 IMAGES OVER AT MY LJ. There is a link in my profile for Chapter 7 Part 4. YOU DON'T HAVE TO HAVE AN LJ TO VISIT. I had a few messages saying they couldn't see the postcard etc because they didn't have an LJ themselves... my journal is NOT locked. Anyone can visit :)**  
><em>

* * *

><p>January 19th<p>

**Dear Blaine,**

**I am going to presume you're home because you said you would be and it was pencilled in my diary (shut up- yes, I have a diary. It's silver and it's beautiful) so WELCOME HOME!**

**How was Italy? I am going to be jealous of you for the rest of my days. I haven't ever been on a plane so I can only imagine how spectacular it was. Is it scary...flying?**

**Tell me every single last detail - spare nothing because I want to feel like I was there!**

**AND NOW... For Kurt Hummel's Official Wedding Recap!**

**Blaine, it was perfect. Well, naturally because I arranged everything but mainly because my dad and Carole are so happy.**

**I may have cried. Ok, I cried all day but it was emotional. As you well know, I don't get deep very often so count yourself blessed...**

**I miss my mom. I miss her every single day. I know it's more natural for a son to feel cheated without a father figure but, for me, I have always wanted my mom.**

**My dad's a great guy. He has always tried hard - sometimes too hard, you know? - but he has played mom and dad since I was so young and I can always see how much it gets to him. He shrunk one of my Marc Jacobs cardigans a few months ago and I could see the frustration in his eyes. Yes, he didn't quite understand the significance of the designer label or the exquisite cut of the fabric but he did feel the pressure of playing both parents. It's because he tries so hard that I've always tried to.**

**I learned to cook, I took care of the house when he was less inspired to clean or when his shifts were arduous. I know he has juggled his life for me so any way I can make it a little easier, I try. It doesn't help that he has a gay son who prefers department stores to a football field and who'd rather wear this seasons Docs with a pair of Westwood jeans instead of throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of sneakers.**

**I miss my mom most of all because of how lonely he is. We have each other and that's everything to me, especially after his illness, so we make the most of what we have but it doesn't take away from the fact that we miss her and what she was to us.**

**I know she doesn't know me now or had no idea that I was going to realise I was gay or able to sing or anything but she must have known I wasn't like other little boys. Which kid asks to play tea parties when there aren't any girls involved? When other kids at kindergarten painted pirates and aliens, I painted princesses and butterflies. I just know she'd have accepted me and a lot easier than my dad did.**

**I wish I could ask what she thinks of one of my outfits. God bless my dad and his staple answers - "um, the color's good" or "is that a staple keeping those together?". I want her to teach my how to make trifle with lady fingers and the custard she used to make from scratch. I want her to teach me how to knit and sew by hand so I don't have to rely on my sewing machine when I knot the thread around the needle. I want so much but it's never going to happen.**

**I just want her to wrap her arms around me and to smell her perfume because I'm so scared I'll forget what that felt like as time goes on.**

**I want to laugh when she used to snap at the TV about an actresses new hair cut and how she'd laugh all high pitched and giggly when she found something rude and inappropriate so very funny.**

**That's what we missed out on but seeing my dad so happy made me happier than I've been for a long time. It made what happened to my mom feel so real but so much easier to deal with.**

**He told me we'd just been existing, not living, and I guess that's true. We miss her and we wish she was here but it's reality that comes and bites you every now and then and I think his heart attack proved how fragile life is.**

**I know we'll always want her back and I'll never have a mom in my life but I want my dad to smile the way he smiled last week. It was beaming and I know he tried to hide it but he was so close to tears.**

**Carole does that. She's lovely and even responsive to my wardrobe advice, plus she's kick ass with a ball of yarn so I have a feeling we'll get on. I heard her shout at America's Next Top Model "honey, eat a burger" and knew we'd get on just fine. I'm yet to educate her in the art of interior design but there's time - seriously, who in this day and age opts for wood panelling. The woman exists in the 80s but if I weaned her off her stonewash denims then I can do anything - right?**

**The actual ceremony was fantastic. I may complain about them and I'll never be ok with some of their choices but the New Directions were there for me and my family 100%. Even Brittany managed to stay awake during the prayers and let me tell you, that's a feat in itself for that girl.**

**Finn made a speech too. He, surprisingly enough, didn't use the one I'd penned for him. His version had a few too many 'awesome's and far too many references to Ms Rachel Berry but all in all it was pretty perfect. (I'm tempted to ask you to burn all evidence that I ever said such a thing).**

**He was pretty sweet actually. With all the Karofsky stuff, he said he's always there for me and that I've taught him what it means to be a man. I don't honestly know how I managed to swallow down the tears but it was all too overwhelming. I know his heart is in the right place, he just never knows quite how to use it but at the wedding, I felt like I had a true brother. I can put up with his rogue dirty socks and never ending drumming of an evening ... actually, no I can't, but I'll try and that's like getting the Queen's blessing in my house because the walls are thin... Let me tell you.**

**So, I have an official step mom and step brother. Finn tried to come up with some awkward celebrity couple name for us and decided upon 'Furt'. How lovely.**

**My dad and Carole are 'Barole' (inspired) and our family are... wait for it... the 'Hudmels'. Seriously, I know you're sitting there wondering how this guy hasn't won the Pulitzer, I'll never know!**

**It's terrifying, Blaine. I AM A PART OF THIS FAMILY.**

**I have a family. Wow.**

**I included a photograph by the way. I'm not in it but I hope you don't mind or equally think it's creepy... maybe this one ISN'T something you want to pin on your cork board ;) Imagining your father's face when he spots my face there and also those of a middle aged couple in wedding attire – oh the many possible conclusions he could come to – hahahaha!**

**I also included my boutonnière as I had two, one for the morning ceremony and one for the evening. I already pressed one of them and have it alongside your flowers. Yes, I do still keep them...**

**I have to say though, Blaine, I realised something while you were away.**

**Is it weird that I'm used to having you in my life now? It is isn't it? Your letters are so normal to me now that I can't remember a time when we didn't write and when I didn't know you.**

**I know Regionals is a big risk. I know that it's a form of that fear... you know the one you get when you contemplate meeting your idol? If I EVER met Patti LuPone, I think I'd die. I'm serious. I think my heart would stop.**

**The fear of them not living up to what you expected and THAT IS NOT TO SAY I HAVE THESE WORRIES WITH YOU AND I... no.**

**I have never known someone without actually being in the same room as them. It's scary but also something special. I just have all of these expectations. Not of you but of life in general and I need to stop thinking about how DIFFERENT this situation is compared to everyone else.**

**I mean, on a daily basis I see so many things that just depress me about humanity.**

**A guy (a large guy, let's say that) actually pulled up his sweater and slapped his belly on Principal Figgins' glass partition. I've never seen a man's eyes extend out of his cranium before. It was a sight to behold.**

**One of the Cheerios during this week's preparation for the big Championship game (or something) actually decided it would be a good idea to drink lemon juice. That's it. No food, just cups full of lemon juice for days on end. I swear there's something in the air in this town – everyone is categorically insane.**

**Brittany considered dating a kid in junior high. Coach Sylvester told her that Madonna dated younger men and naturally Brittany took younger literally.**

**I see all of these people around me on a day to day basis and I've never felt like I belonged here. I don't expose my naked body parts in public for all to see nor do I risk my entire existence by swallowing cups full of natural acid and GUESS WHAT BLAINE? I've never dated someone just out of diapers.**

**I want out of this town. Badly.**

**I guess what I'm trying to say it that I've never felt that grounding to this place. My family and the New Directions are my only reasons to stay here but what I've learned from you is that it doesn't matter where you are, there are always people out there who will understand.**

**I met you without any expectations. I've never found anyone who doesn't ask QUESTIONS after everything I say because they don't GET IT. I've never found anyone who just accepts who I am and what I say and what I do. Maybe this is because you don't see me on a daily basis but regardless of it all, it means a lot.**

**This is so incoherent, isn't it?**

**It's late and today we had the glorious and wonderful news that we shall be inducted into our late teens with our first sex ed sessions.**

**HELP ME.**

**Only last week did Brittany announce to the whole club that she was pregnant. No, Blaine, she did not have sex and miss her cycle or something... no, she simply spotted a stalk on her garage roof.**

**I wept tears that night. For humanity.**

**The girl is a sandwich short of a picnic basket, I swear.**

**Ms Holiday worked as a sub here a while back. She's tres fantastique ;)**  
><strong>Anyone capable of keeping Brett awake is worthy of some sort of medal – Brett is my English partner and at Christmas my aim is to buy him a pack of deodorant – lord knows he needs it. The boy has never been introduced to a bar of soap in his life.<strong>

**I truly hope Italy was as perfect as I imagine.**

**I translated your message on your postcard. I don't know what to say except for**

**Ditto**

**Why am I far too used to having you in my life?**

**Oh ami. I bet Joe has missed me! ;)**

**Sorry if this letter has been a touch melodramatic and all over the place. Time of the year, I guess.**

**Grosses bises !**

**Kurt**

**x**

* * *

><p>January 30th<p>

_Kurt Kurt Kurt!_

_I'm home. Joe HAS missed you. I almost tackled him to the ground when he arrived at the mailbox and he thought we had moved. Trouble is, he spoke to my Dad when he saw him and asked about me... and you._

_Safe to say, I sat down to some pretty awkward questioning when I arrived home. So much for a welcome party._

_Anyway, I'll not bore you with all of that! Italy! Ole!_

_Kurt, it was wonderful. Amazing. Magical, even. I actually thought of you more than once... a lot actually... because you'd have adored the shopping and the bakeries._

_While we visited Vatican City, we had a seminar from a master of the Latin language and its application in modern day. It was fascinating to see how many of our words are derived from theirs – so many that I couldn't get my head around it. Just walking the streets, I knew I was in the presence of such rich history and it hit me how incredibly lucky I am._

_We visited the Vatican Museum and Gardens (you'd have been blown away, Kurt, but I have photographs as promised!)_

_I thought... maybe instead of sending you my photographs and wasting printer ink and that very expensive photo paper, I could bring my digital camera with me to the Lima Bean?_

_Do you think we'd have time? We could meet earlier? I'd love to see your photographs from the wedding, which sounds so spectacular._

_I bow to you, you genius. I am sure your father appreciated every single thing you did because not many sons would have stepped up to plan an entire wedding. Not many people could have pulled it off and Finn is right – you went above and beyond and are SUCH an inspiration._

_I mean it. Especially after the past few months._

_I'll get back to that because I'll finish telling you about my trip!_

_Jeff and I roomed together during the trip and it was nice to have a friend with me. We get on well, which is nice because apart from Wes and David, I didn't really feel as though we were more to each other than just the TEAM – the great Warbler team. It's awesome working in a group and having that camaraderie but sometimes you just want something one-on-one, someone to yourself... do you know what I mean?_

_The Sistine Chapel, Kurt. Oh wow. I bought your postcard from a little old lady selling them in the shade. She passed me a wrapped candy and held my hand, which would have been weird but there was magic in the air._

_The painting and carvings and general architecture just took my breath away. Everything was gold and gilded and perfect brush strokes and intricate detail that my eyes were cheated so often. I could hardly believe what I was looking at and how any human on this planet could be so talented to create something as epic and beautiful._

_I wish you could see it someday._

_The Vatican Grottoes were kind of creepy but so majestic too. It was so silent and completely serene, which made you really think. I was speechless so it didn't really matter ;)_

_La Pieta. Oh Kurt, if there was ONE thing I wish you could have seen it was La Pieta. Michelangelo wasn't human, of that I'm completely convinced because that kind of art and glory can only be created in dreams – you know?_

_I know you have mentioned that you're not religious and I'm not a true follower of religion but nothing could take away the beauty of the sculpture. The faces were so real and almost terrifyingly so. It was almost upsetting to me to see something so perfectly crafted depicting someone dying and grieving._

_St Peter's Square was as you'd imagine – so beautiful – but so crammed with tourists. I knew Vatican City would be like that but was a little stunned at how many people were so emotional there. It means a lot to so many people, I suppose. That's kind of special in its own right._

_One day, Jeff, Nick and I found a restaurant close to our hotel called Sicilianbocca, which served the most incredible tricolore salad and cannelloni. I think I died and went to heaven. Yum! Jeff started a competition to see how many Profiteroles we could fit in our mouths which made our waitress laugh so much that she mumbled something in Italian (we are nowhere near good enough for that level of fluency) and brought us a dish of their speciality ice cream because she said we were 'cute'. She managed an Americanism! Jeff spent the rest of the evening flirting with her without having a single clue what she was saying._

_Safe to say, it was an experience. The whole trip was. I loved every second!_

_I may have bought you something... I didn't include it in the package because I think I can give it to you in person._

_[How weird is that? Still!]_

_Kurt, what you said about your mom. I'm so sorry. I know everyone says that as a stock phrase following a bereavement but I really mean it._

_She sounds incredible and the kind of lady that anyone would be proud to know. I love someone with a sharp sense of humour and I'm sure you sounds as if you've inherited that from her._

_I'm just sorry that she can't tell you how much she loves you and how proud she is of you because I know I didn't know here and our meeting has been unconventional but I know that for sure. She would have adored you, just the way your father does and, as you said, he's had a lot to get used to._

_He has always sounded like a hero to me. Am I ok to say that?_

_You know about my father. He's not a bad guy, he's not cruel and he's not unfeeling but he's not willing to talk. He shies away and pretends, which seems to be a trait inherited in this family._

_I worry sometimes that I will end up like that. I always followed my heart, which led to music and passions I have but still... I worry that one day I'll have to make decisions about my life and I might make the wrong ones because of the way my family is. Do you think it's possible to just branch out and change the pattern that has just existed for so long?_

_I want to find someone. I want to be happy. I want to go to college and experience the world. Italy showed me how much fun it can be to just... see life. I watched the world go by from an entirely different part of the world and it was refreshing and so different to what I'm used to but it was amazing to me._

_I want that for myself. I want to make my own life._

_I just know he'll never understand my sexuality and that's something I've had to come to terms with. I'll never be able to bring home a boyfriend and invite him for dinner in the same way you could. Your dad may be a little uncomfortable but from the way you speak about him, I have a feeling he'd push through it and try because he has that in him._

_He's willing to open his eyes to things he doesn't necessarily feel comfortable with and at least appreciate them for what they are._

_My dad won't._

_I know you must miss your mom so much but your father seems to have done a wonderful job for her and in her honour. You described your tea parties and the cute things you used to do together..._

_My dad made me help him built a Chevy last Summer in our garage. As you'd have appreciated from his visit to your dad's garage – he's not that mechanical. It's not as if he's always had a burning passion to build a car or play around with a carburettor, which can only mean he did it for another reason._

_My money's on the inspired idea that getting his son's hands dirty might be the catalyst for an epiphany in the way I see women. As if it's that easy!_

_Your mom would have loved you and I know nothing anybody could ever say could make it easier, but you must know how proud you're making her by following your dreams and being yourself._

_I bet she'd have loved that and helped you design outfits to boot ;)_

_Not the most seamless subject change but how were the sex ed classes?_

_Dalton has them but NO WAY are they about to lecture us on safe sex for gay kids. That's why the internet is my friend and I DO NOT (scout's honour) mean in any way other than the informative sense._

_(Oh no, I am sure I can hear your wry laugh!)_

_I think the extent of our sex ed was a very serious video with a young lady and young gentleman progressing through their relationship from 'courting' to 'intercourse'. Urgh, Kurt I swear it was painful. Some guys left the room, some turned solid red and actually blushed and some of the more vocal guys shouted stuff I never ever want my ears to be subject to again. So uncomfortable. I was just thankful nobody mentioned me or anything to do with homosexuality because I think I'd have dissolved with embarrassment. Not that I'm shy about it because you can't be but it's not the easiest thing to talk about with a room full of pubescent, preppy public school boys (alliteration again! 10 points to Gryffindor... that's my house by the way. If you don't read Harry Potter, I'm going to appear to be the biggest nerd right now. Infact, if you don't then your friendship may have to be questioned.)_

_Did your friend Brittany REALLY think that? Looks like your school DOES need some help because that is terrifying. Anyone at our age who doesn't at least know the basics is putting themselves in a dangerous position._

_As prep for Regionals, Wes has booked us a gig in a nursing home. We're doowopping for the elderly and I kind of adore it. They always smile when we sing some of the older numbers. I suppose acapella has a way of sounding so traditional. I've opted for a Drifters number for my solo. Wes almost choked as I'm apparently 'Mr Top Forty'. Why can't a guy mix it up every now and then?_

_My mom has asked to talk to me about you. After they found out I'd been writing to a boy, I'm sure they jumped to conclusions and thought I was writing to a prison inmate or something. I had to explain how we 'met'._

_My dad had never heard of PFLAG before. Shocker. He didn't really say much, except to ask why I wrote to you because 'didn't I have friends already?'. I explained that I did have friends but it was good to make new friends and that writing to you was something that I really enjoyed._

_I told my mom you were special to me and that seemed to keep her quiet. It's the truth and I think she knew it. Why they'd have a problem with it, I'll never know._

_I'm sorry I didn't include anything exciting with my letter but I assure you, I have plenty to bring along with me to the Lima Bean!_

_Nick was talking about how he's planning for Valentine's Day (his girlfriend's at our sister school Crawford Country Day). It got me thinking about it. I love Valentine's Day. I think it's so special that there's a day dedicated to love when you can just tell someone without worry of inappropriate timing or social constraints... I love you._

_Have you got a Valentine? (I hope you don't think I'm pressing my luck here and being intrusive – I don't mean to be.)_

_You've never mentioned if there's someone you like._

_Well, I suppose I have to sign off because we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. In Wes' infinite wisdom, The Warblers need shaking up a bit and although we have our small performances, he thinks we need to try something new for Regionals. I overhead Jeff talking about foam yesterday. You think you need saving... I'd gladly endure hours of painfully awkward sex ed than what Wes has in store!_

_Tanti cari saluti,_

_Blaine_

_xxx_

_PS: I have your boutonnière on my cork board. I've pinned so many souvenirs from Italy on there, it's slowly becoming my happy place ;)_

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><p>February 7th<p>

**Blaine,**

**I really need someone to talk to.**

**I'm going to regret sending this immediately so I need to ask something of you, if you don't mind.**

**PLEASE never speak of this letter again. PLEASE don't judge me. PLEASE don't laugh. Oh, and so many other things.**

**We had our sex ed classes. It was all fine and quite hilarious really. Finn gave himself a black eye with a condom and Brittany asked what an 'ovary' was... apparently she thought it was a bird's house. I am so pleased I was wearing my long sleeved Henley that day because MY GOD did I laugh into it. I shudder at the thought of the product of her genes with another's... he needs to be a brain surgeon because someone needs to balance out the stupid.**

**I do have a soft spot for her... when she doesn't want to play with my fingers or stroke my cheek. Apparently my skin is soft. Yes, and that's the product of many years of careful moisturising.**

**Anyway. Blaine it was awful. Finn asked Ms Holiday what a prostate is. He said that Puck had told him that women don't have them.**

**I almost crawled out of the class. I didn't know what to do because I don't know about sex. I don't know anything about it but I am not stupid and I am more than informed about male anatomy.**

**I sound like a child, don't I?**

**It's just... all of this is not something I think about. I'm no monk but it just makes me a little uncomfortable. The LAST thing I wanted was for Puck to flash me a grin (I hate him sometimes) and shout 'why don't we ask Hummel, he of all people should know.'**

**I cried when I got home. I know that sounds pathetic. It does, doesn't it?**

**It's just, when he said it, everyone looked at me and I wanted to die. I don't like to talk about sex because I don't know enough about it and it's weird because it seems like something other people do. Not me.**

**I like romance. I suppose that's why musicals have always been important to me because the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets. The leading lady demurely kisses or accepts a dance and the gentleman is passionate without being imposing. Nobody does any of THAT STUFF on stage.**

**I don't want to know because nobody has ever shown an in...I mean, urgh. I don't even like writing this because it makes me feel uncomfortable. It's not that I think sex is this disgusting thing that nobody should do, it's just, well...**

**Ok, I tried watching some of THOSE movies. You know...**

**I just had to turn them off. I hated seeing those guys just**

**I hated it.**

**I don't want someone anywhere near me like that. If THAT is what it's like then count me out. I'd take a carefully planned picnic in the park or a walk along a moonlit beach anytime because it was obscene and scary and horrible and never could I ever imagine myself doing that. No. Way.**

**Ms Holiday asked me to stay behind after class and asked me if I was ok. Apparently I must have looked less than happy. Go figure.**

**THEN SHE CALLED MY DAD.**

**Blaine. She called my dad.**

**The next day, I was minding my own business and whipping cream to eat with my English scones (they're delicious) and my dad slaps a pile of pamphlets on the kitchen counter.**

**I have never in my entire life wanted to apparate (not a nerd by the way Blaine. Who DOESN'T read Harry Potter?) out of my house to some distant distant land where nobody does THAT to each other like THAT because then I wouldn't have to READ about it and spend my precious time learning about stuff I don't want to.**

**So, to cut a long story short, we had the 'talk'. I am sure there shall be finger imprints on the underside of our oak table from how hard I was gripping it. I have never wanted a conversation to end quicker in my life and that is SAYING SOMETHING because last week Finn asked me advice on how to read second base with Rachel. MY GOD. Yes, they're back together too by the way. Oh joy. Time to count down till the next melodramatic scenario doomed to rock the Glee Club to its core... oh dear god.**

**I tried to convey my feelings better but I am failing so badly. I'm appearing incoherent and rambly and that is not what I intended. I just feel confused.**

**On one hand, I was so grateful to my dad for doing what he did. He genuinely meant every word and it did help, I suppose, but I just don't feel ready for all of that.**

**Should I be? Should I be more like Puck or Santana? They're so open with that stuff but, then again, Santana's slept with pretty much every guy at McKinley including the janitor and Puck's pool cleaning business was his way of sleeping with the mom's of every guy in our school.**

**I cried because I felt like a child. It just scares me.**

**Is it abnormal that I've never held hands with someone?**

**People don't tend to come that close. I'm no dog with three heads. I know I can come off as a little spiky but that's just my way. It doesn't mean I don't want the same things as everyone else.**

**I don't think I've ever been cuddled. Of course, my dad has hugged me and Mercedes too but nobody has HUGGED me. I sound like a loser. Oh I am never posting this letter to you.**

**I want all of that. I want someone to reach out for my hand and hold it because they want to and because they would like to.**

**Do people at Dalton pull away when you try to touch them? It's as if I have cooties or something.**

**I'm no teddy bear and I don't think anybody would describe me as cuddly because, first of all, I'd kill them and secondly, I'm just not.**

**I like to care for people, though. I just don't let people have the chance to get that close because I'm only setting myself up for a fall. I don't think I want to have to deal with that.**

**I'm good at being alone now and as dismal as that sounds, it's ok. Mercedes said something perfect at our sleepover last week. Patti, Barbra and Whitney were all single when they put all of their pain and loneliness into their music and sang from the bottom of their hearts.**

**When Rachel sings, she cries. When I sing, I want people to listen. Maybe that's what I should do... just sing and then I'll feel better.**

**I know that won't stop me from wanting to hold someone's hand as I walk down the corridor at school. I know I'd be good at being someone's boyfriend. I have no experience but I think I'd be good at it. Maybe not the physical side because who'd want that with me but I'm a good listener, I have give the best advice, I make perfect comfort food, I'd be at every event they'd ever need support for and I sing a killer lullaby...**

**I'm not going to write a list because then I'd be hitting new lows.**

**I'm definitely not going to post this. Even writing all of this out is making me cringe and I may or not want to cry with the realisation that I am utterly tragic.**

**In answer to your question, Blaine, no I do not have a Valentine. I appreciate your love for it but it's just another one of those holidays designed to make money through crass and tacky presents and overpriced greeting's cards.**

**It's also a day to watch everyone canoodle and receive squishy teddy bears while you plan which pyjamas you're going to wear to curl up in bed and cry with Dirty Dancing or Breakfast at Tiffany's playing in the background.**

**[Now we both know what I'll be doing on Valentine's Day evening.]**

**Moving on.**

**Your trip sounds fantastic. I am so excited to hear more about it and see your photographs. You truly didn't have to feel obliged to buy me anything. Thank you. That's so sweet. I will have to repay the gesture somehow...**

**I can't believe I'm posting this. This week has been hell.**

**Thank you for listening and if you ever decide to write back to this mess, please just ignore every single word I just wrote.**

**Cri de Coeur!**

**I'll see you so very soon. Oh I just realised. I may not be able to fit in a letter before we meet.**

**Oh wow.**

**Um, is it ok that I'm nervous? I shouldn't be telling you that because now you'll know and it'll be awkward. We can't make it awkward. No.**

**I'll be a much more composed version of Kurt than this version – I promise. I'm really not this much of a hot mess in real life.**

**(ahem)**

**I already have my outfit picked out (actually I bought something new) so there's that.**

**I cannot believe that we've written to one another for so long now. I can't believe everything that has happened. It seems so long ago that I sent my first letter to you.**

**I suppose it's a testament to how much I trust you that I am actually going to post this letter to you and not slot it into my journal.**

**I hope you like me. Oh that sounds weird...**

**OK. I NEED TO GO. Oh what am I doing?**

**Just forget everything you just read.**

**Love your mess of a friend,**

**Kurt**

**xxx**

**PS: You called me special. I'm so touched... as long as it's in the good way ;) (after reading this letter I wouldn't be surprised if you meant it in the bad way).**

**PPS: I remember you said you liked football. Our team won the Championship! Finn is clicking his heels Dorothy-style (although he'd have no clue who she is!). Karofsky missed his chance and Sam took his place. The whole team managed to man up and play sport so I suppose that's a very small step in the right direction.**

* * *

><p>February 14th<p>

_Kurt,_

_Special, in the good way ;)_  
><em>Now you won't walk down the hallway empty handed.<em>

_I rented You Got Mail (as promised) so my evening will mirror yours in every sense._  
><em>I'll think of you in your Patrick SwayzeGeorge Peppard induced haze of lust ;)_

_Never apologise for anything you send me._

_I'll write back soon._  
><em>Con tanto amore,<em>

_Blaine_

_**[MISSING PICTURE 1- SEE THE LINK IN MY PROFILE]**_

_**[MISSING PICTURE 2 - SEE THE LINK IN MY PROFILE]**_

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

February 27th

Kurt frowned a little as the delicate spoon he held between finger and thumb clinked against his favourite china cup. A tradition passed down from his mom, he squeezed the tea bag and assisted the infusion with a flick of his wrist.

He took a deep breath, bringing the swirling steam up to his face and breathing in deep. It felt comforting, much the same as a warm blanket or a hot water bottle.

The house was quieter than the morning had been. Finn's loud repeated verses of 'Happy Birthday' had been sweet but not too kind on the ear drums. Carole had crept in early, planting a mug of coffee on his nightstand before drawing the curtains a little. It wasn't a gesture designed to wake him up – Kurt knew that – but it was nice. It was thoughtful.

Birthdays were never something he'd made that big a fuss about. They'd come and gone in a flash, usually with a meal at Breadsticks just he and his father and an extra large garlic bread.

Now, they were a family. Finn's birthday hug tradition was something to get used to, not to mention his gift selection. He'd bought a scarf. It was never going to rival the McQueen skull print collection coveted in his accessories trunk and it would never come close to being as meaningful as Blaine's Dalton scarf but it was thick, chunky knit and extra long. It had Finn written all over it and somehow it meant a lot.

Watching Finn's face come close to splitting as he'd opened it and expressed his love for the colour was enough.

"Hey, kiddo. Hey! Earth to Kurt," Burt sang, waving his hand with a goofy expression. Kurt smiled, blinking a little too lazily.

"Sorry. Miles away."

"On your birthday too. We can't be having that," Burt said surely, offering a warm pat to Kurt's shoulder and ducking past him to refill the kettle. "You sure you haven't got plans with anyone from school tonight because Carole was going to book the table in a while."

Kurt felt an inevitable smile creep to his lips. "No, Dad. Mercedes and I are having a sleepover tomorrow night at her house with Rachel and Tina so I have that side of my birthday covered. A meal sounds good."

With a smile and a flick of the kettle switch, Burt leaned against the counter. "You ok, kid?"

He wasn't really. Nervous, yes. Wistful, definitely. Blaine knew it was his birthday from a distant letter they'd sent to one another but he'd been so thoughtful with every other holiday and at every other point in their friendship so far so it wasn't a shock that he could forget one day.

It wasn't as if Kurt expected anything; the only thing he missed was, well, Blaine and that was a topic he'd banished from his brain. He couldn't go down that road of pathetic unrequited pining for a guy he hadn't even spoken face-to-face with. It was the closeness and the fact that, after so many years of dreaming of it, he had a true confidant – he had someone he could explain his heart to, complain to, joke with, open up to and that someone listened. He knew only too well the quickening of the heart, the fluttering of the stomach and shameless giddiness inside but he couldn't let that be a _thing. _

Blaine was gorgeous. He was too gorgeous for his own good. He had an actual sense of humour that didn't involve jokes about unfortunate bodily functions or cursing like most boys his age. He knew about things. He wasn't a Neanderthal –far from it. He spoke of architecture and movies like his dreams were filled with a mirror image of Kurt's. He was understanding and thoughtful to a fault, which was just verging on unfair. Perfection didn't exist and Kurt was well aware of that fact but regardless of Blaine's insecurities, his worries and his obvious issues with expressing his inner self, Kurt knew that Blaine was as near to what he'd always wanted as he could ever hope to find.

It was bittersweet. Letters were inherently romantic. The very art of penmanship and letter writing held a stigma since their creation so it wasn't a surprise that it felt fated. The problem was that this is what he did; he let his mind, hopes and dreams fly away and whip up further fairytales in an instant. They were ever reproducing, spiralling out of control inside his mind and there he could allow them to play and run over and over again – especially in dark times – but in real life, sitting in front of Blaine in person was going to be a hundred miles away from those thoughts he'd concocted for months.

It was all going to be so real.

The thought of speaking the words he'd written in his previous letter was terrifying. Kurt knew he could never ever do it. Not in a million years. It would take someone to find that part of him deep inside and drag it out of him kicking and screaming because the prospect of offering his heart in person was just too much to handle.

It was all so confusing.

He knew, deep down, that a second in Blaine's presence was going to make it all impossible. His resolve was going to melt away in an instant leaving his heart beating wildly and palms sweating. He'd fall head over heels and that would be it. Blaine would run a mile and Kurt knew he'd be left, slotting the pieces of his heart back together and repeating the same mantras over and over again – _'it just wasn't meant to be'._

It felt as though it was and that was the scariest part of it all. It didn't feel like playing house or making believe – it all felt so true and honest. They had been just that and consistently too. That wasn't something you found every day.

He had to protect his heart, the same way as he'd learned to over the years. The kind of romance in books and movies and even on stage was simply not real. People didn't grow close in letters. It was all a facade because if he couldn't do it in real life then what were their written words? Were they the truth? Were their words an honest depiction of their actual relationship or were they just playing safe because it was easier to write what you couldn't say? Nothing seemed to make sense.

"I'm fine, Dad. Just going to choose an outfit for later."

Warming his hands, Kurt took a sip before ascending the stairs. As he reached the top two, a sensation tickled his hip. Kicking open his door, Kurt fished around in his pocket and placed his cup safely on his nightstand.

With a glance to his iPhone, Kurt frowned. He wasn't one for answering unknown numbers ever since Puck had gotten hold of his number last year and made inappropriate noises down the line. That had been a moment only therapy could hope to remove. With a breath, he tapped the 'answer' button.

"Kurt?"

_Oh hell._

Kurt felt himself shiver as he nudged the door closed and climbed onto his bed. "Blaine?"

"Hi. I hope this is ok," Blaine called down the line, the bustle of the world in the background, "it's just I'm at the airport with my mom and dad. That's the reason I haven't been the best friend in the world with keeping in touch."

Kurt could feel his heart in his fingertips and a twitch to his lips. He wanted to smile massively and squish his pillow to his chest. He needed to do something because Blaine was calling._ Blaine. Was. Calling._

"Blaine, it's fine. Just a little unexpected." He kept his voice in check as his skin tingled fiercely.

"Oh, good. I've been at my Grandmother's house. I'll explain it all when I see you. I can't talk for long because my dad's about to come back with coffee and I don't want to have to explain who I'm calling. Long story."

"Oh, ok. I hope everything's ok."

"It is. It's fine, Kurt, honestly. Just family stuff this weekend and the whole week has been Regionals prep. Wes is a monster. That's the only conclusion I can come to."

Kurt laughed, holding the phone a little too tightly. He took a steadying breath and pursed his lips into a smile. Blaine was calling from the airport, in a rush, risking daddy issues after a rough week.

"We're writing original songs. I had to sit through Santana's ode to Sam's lips on Thursday. It was entitled 'Trouty Mouth'."

Kurt shook his head, remembering the train wreck and the inevitable fall out of Sam's outburst and Santana's bitch face for the remainder of the day. They were clearly going to be laughed off stage at Regionals.

Blaine's chuckle echoed down the line, close and reserved only for Kurt. It took a couple of deep breaths and a reassuring squeeze of the cushion Kurt had drawn to his chest to calm his racing heart.

"Sounds... um, interesting! Look, Kurt I want to talk and I feel awful but they're coming back soon. I called to say Happy Birthday."

Swallowing down a squeal of happiness, Kurt deadpanned and attempted to inject an air of nonchalance into his voice. He failed. "Oh, Blaine, you really didn't have to."

"It is ok that I'm calling, isn't it? I thought of sending a card but I didn't know if it would get to you in time."

Smiling, Kurt ducked his head and laughed a little. "Oh I think it's acceptable."

"Good," Blaine laughed, "well, Happy Birthday! I'd say something in devastatingly perfect Italian or Latin but when we write I cheat and use my manuals and dictionaries so you'll have to have the plain American version."

"I'll let you off."

Silence took over for a moment, so loud and almost poignant.

"Kurt, are you ok?" Blinking, Kurt swallowed thickly and cradled the phone to his ear.

"Thank you for calling."

A small sigh echoed down the line causing Kurt's chest to tighten and delicious shivers to cascade down his spine. "You're thanking me for calling to wish you a happy birthday?"

"Yes," Kurt said simply. _You're thoughtful and lovely and sweet and ridiculous and –_

"Well, there's no need. Absolutely none at all." Kurt heard a crackle on the line followed by muffled voices. He held his breath, praying that he hadn't landed Blaine in trouble. "Ok, I managed to distract them. I told them you were Wes and you were freaking out about next week."

"Next week..." Kurt sighed. He flinched instantly, knowing he hadn't meant to say it out loud and quite so wistfully. Oh god.

"I know. Weird," Blaine laughed but it sounded nervous. Something inside Kurt felt warm and strangely comforted. "But weird in a good way."

"You need to go before you get into trouble."

"I want to talk so much. Ok. Ok. Well, I'll just say this. I hope your day has been suitably amazing so far and I'll be at the Lima Bean at nine am sharp on Tuesday, no red carnation in the lapel of my blazer but instead with a gift, a stack of photographs and a...oh my memory... a grande non fat mocha?"

"I'm impressed," Kurt sighed out, breathless and dazed, his mind dreamily chanting the only thing he could focus on – 'he remembered'.

"Really? Go me! So, Tuesday."

"Tuesday," Kurt said slowly, his brain flooding with the enormity of that one single word.

"I hope you have a wonderful night, Kurt. I, um, I wanted to say, um, I really... oh, Kurt I have to go. I'm so sorry. Tuesday. Yes?"

"Yes, Blaine. I'll be there."

"Ok. It's a date, I mean, you know what I mean. Ok, bye, Kurt!"

"Bye, Blaine."

As the line went dead, Kurt grabbed the nearest cushion and covered his face with a sigh full of so much more than he could even begin to articulate.

_Tuesday._

_**~TBC**  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>TRANSLATIONS:<strong> **_Please forgive any mistakes. I try so hard to remember French as best I can and please blame me as much as Google ;)_**

Grosses bises! – Can be taken a few ways but most likely 'lots of hugs and kisses' (French)  
>Tanti cari saluti – Lots of Love (Italian)<br>Cri de Coeur – 'cry of the heart' – heartfelt cry of anguish (French)  
>Con tanto amore - With lots of love (Italian)<br>Felicem Diem Valentini – Happy Valentine's Day (Italian)  
>Je ne sais pas comment vous remercier<em> - <em>I don't know how to thank you (French)  
>Bises! – Can be taken a few ways but most likely 'kisses' or 'hugs and kisses' or something equally as cute! (French)<p> 


	11. Monday Evening

**Author's Notes**

_Yes, I AM this cheesy posting on an ACTUAL Monday and Tuesday.  
>Chapter 8 is in 3 parts. I'M WRITING AND IT'S JUST GROWING. I promise that Chap 9 onwards are single parts. <em>  
>8A- Monday Evening<br>8B- Tuesday morning at the Lima Bean (the part everyone's waiting for!)  
>8C- Regionals<em><em>

_You'll grasp from this, and if you follow me on tumblr, that I have a THING for Hummelberry and Furt. I can hardly RESIST writing them so I'm praying I managed to get their voices right. This part is VERY heavily focused on Kurt so that's a heads up.  
><em>

Thank you to the ever lovely _ **ccmskatechick** / suchalilyofthevalley _for helping with eradicating my Britishisms and generally being wonderful!  
><em>THANK YOU to those who have left the most crazybeautiful reviews and recc-d this at various places. It means so much to me.<em>

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><p><strong><span>Monday Evening<span>**

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><p>"Oh hell no, Mr Schue. That song kicks butt and you know it," Mercedes hollered, diva snapping with each syllable, "I worked so hard on that song and at least it's not about Sam and his lips or Berry's headbands. Come on!"<p>

Kurt laughed to himself. He'd endured enough of the crazy to know that Mercedes didn't stand a chance. Mr Schue would never give the go ahead to a song entitled ' Hell to the No' regardless of how catchy the chorus seemed to be.

They'd finalised one song. 'Loser Like Me' was their 'anthem'. It was hardly Joni Mitchell but they'd written it based on Coach Sylvester and a multitude of crap they'd endured so it seemed to hit the spot message wise and, of course, that was what Mr Schue loved – inspirational messages.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt played with a buckle on his bag and phased out. Tina was clearly bored too as she'd taken interest in Mike's fingers and sat idly picking them up one by one and running her own down the length of them in the softest way. Mike seemed to be indifferent, except on closer inspection, Kurt could see the tiny contented smile on his face.

Kurt took a breath and wondered what it felt like. His heart wasn't used to feeling full or fluttery. He wasn't used to being touched, especially not in a tender and gentle way. He felt like a chaste maiden, resigned to looking at love and romance through a sheet of glass and a lifetime of suppressed wanton. He knew what it looked like; he knew what it was supposed to feel like because songs were pretty expressive in that regard but he had nothing personal to go off.

He hadn't told Mercedes about Blaine. She'd been a little crushed to find out that writing to a total stranger gave him more comfort than anyone he was close to in certain areas of his life. It was difficult for anyone to understand really.

"Kurt?"

Turning to his left, Rachel sat, lips pouted precisely and eyes as expectant as always.

"Rachel."

He turned back to Mr Schue. Maybe she'd get distracted.

"Kurt. I'm going to keep talking because I know you're ignoring me but my dads are out of town this weekend and I checked my diary. I have an opening after my Saturday morning ballet class so I wanted to extend an invitation to you." Sucking in a breath, Kurt turned to her, holding it before raising his eyebrows for her continue. "I, um, well, I thought we could have a sleepover, you know, like your birthday."

"Rachel, that was only a few days ago."

"I know," she sighed, "but it was fun." She frowned, seemingly unsure as to why Kurt didn't just accept right out.

The emotions were written all over her face, so much so that Kurt could help but huff out a laugh. "Come on, Rachel, what's your real reason for inviting me?"

"Honestly, I just thought it would be something nice for the two stars of New Directions to have some fun and down time after the stress of Regionals. That's all."

With her final words, she shook her head, her curls bouncing. A look of pure petulance crossed her face until it died away and Kurt saw her true feelings. She was as guarded as he was at times and he knew why – he understood.

"Rachel, was my birthday sleepover your first sleepover?"

She shuffled in her seat, placing her hands demurely and pointedly on her crossed knees. "You declined my offer, Kurt, and I'm trying to listen to Mr Schue. We have important preparations to focus on."

"Don't give me that," Kurt urged, copying her stance intentionally. It'd get to her. She'd hate the similarity, recognise Kurt's stubbornness and retaliate as always.

"Well, if you must know," she hissed, her eyes never leaving the front of the choir room, "yes. Yes, Kurt it was my first sleepover. Happy now?"

She was impossible. Rachel Berry was not the easiest person to spend large amounts of a day with but when she was 'Rachel Berry the human being' instead of 'Ms Rachel Berry the forever indulged, psychotic starlet', she was kind of adorable.

He mapped the way her eyes twinkled with moisture more than they usually did and the forced jut of her dainty chin. She was upset and masking it perfectly – she was an expert just like Kurt.

"I can bake something."

She flinched, head snapping to look him in the eye. Something softened and her lips curved into a miniscule smile – visible but only to those who truly knew how to read subtlety in emotion. Finn couldn't read Rachel with a map and an instruction manual. He needed the world spelling out to him, slowly and in plain English; it wasn't that he was an idiot (all of the time) it was just that he took the world at face value and if anyone required insight it was Rachel Berry.

"Bake?" she asked, eyes wide like a baby rabbit.

"Yes, Rachel. With flour and water. I can bake something to bring to your house."

"Oh," she breathed out, smiling now. Her shoulders now noticeably relaxed. "I have an extensive DVD collection. All of the typical movies people watch at sleepovers and we have a drawer in our freezer full of ice cream. Although, I did wonder if you might like to watch the new Les Mis Anniversary Cast recording DVD. My dads bought it for me."

It was then that Kurt knew for sure that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she pissed him off, they'd be friends. The world was cruel but he knew that anyway - being actual friends with Rachel Berry wasn't the worst it could get.

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><p>The songs were almost ready; Mr Schue was naively optimistic as always regardless of Coach Sylvester's incessant need to find out what they were up to. Kurt had heard – through the grapevine – that she'd assaulted someone or at least attempted to in her scheme to make them all suffer so, as always, McKinley was a flurry of madness.<p>

Returning home after a full day of classes in which he'd found himself plagued with stupidity was tiring. Being paired with Brittany wasn't a normal occurrence as she usually found herself in a different set but instead she'd spent the majority of math turning the shapes they were discovering the angles for into animals – mainly cats. Kurt had watched as she had drawn whiskers and begun naming them before quickly scribbling the answers – the quicker they were completed, the quicker the escape!

"Dude! I'm totally acing this cooking thing!" Finn greeted him from the kitchen archway as Kurt placed his bag down beside the front door.

"Please tell me someone's in there with you and you aren't alone with my knife set because Finn Hudson, I swear to god if they're blunt or you hav-"

"Woah," Finn shouted, waving his hand about causing Kurt to notice the novelty apron he was sporting, "my mom's teaching me and I haven't touched any knives. I've been scraping carrots."

"Well, um," Kurt began, "that's lovely."

Finn just grinned, his face almost splitting. "Told you. I'm gonna kick Jamie Oliver's ass, dude. He's got nothing on me."

With that, Finn disappeared into the kitchen. Kurt laughed to himself as Carole voice could be heard shouting in a manner which only indicated her boiling stress levels – "No no no, not don't touch that, Finn!"

It was nice, Kurt mused. The family environment was new but it was something he knew he could get used to. He hadn't chosen his new brother nor had he handpicked his new step mother – well, not specifically anyway as it had been more of a '_oh Dad look there's a single widowed mother of the boy I'm kind of in love with, why don't you date her'. _Regardless of social conventions and the norm, they were apparently a family now and Kurt couldn't help but linger a little longer to eavesdrop on the talking from the kitchen.

Monday nights were always as crazy and in some twisted way, it worked for them.

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><p>"Kurt!"<p>

He'd been shouting for a good ten minutes. Kurt knew this but it wasn't as if he was going to respond because Finn shouting only meant one of a short list of things: he'd done something wrong and needed bailing out, he wanted Rachel Berry advice, he needed feeding or he was bored and this was the worst option because it meant Finn in his room and being a pest.

"Kurt!"

It was loud, so much so that it was unavoidable.

"What, Finn? Because I honestly don't know what could possibly be so important to warrant you screeching from your room!" Kurt shouted back with just the perfect injection of disdain.

"I'm bored."

_Typical._

Kurt turned and glared as Finn appeared in the doorway.

"Entertain yourself then," he huffed, throwing yet another sweater into the growing pile on the floor.

"What's this?" Finn asked, leaning against the door frame with a smirk.

"What does it look like to you?"

Kurt was stressed. He knew he was and it wasn't helping that time seemed to be spinning by far too quickly. He still had so much to do: iron whatever ensemble he decided upon, nightly routine, pack a bag for Regionals, charge his iPhone and plan a playlist for the bus trip (listening to 'Rachel Berry: The Collection on her pink spangled iPod was just not a valid option). No part of his list of jobs included entertaining Finn Hudson.

"A pile of clothes," Finn said simply, his voice rising slightly at the end of his words, a little confused in case it was a trick question.

"Give the boy a medal. Wonderful deduction."

"Hey, I'm only being nice."

Kurt glanced up mid-breath with a handful of scarves and sighed roughly. "I'm sorry, you're right," he breathed out, throwing the accessories into a separate pile by his nightstand. "Come in then if you're staying."

Finn smiled softly and closed the door behind him, claiming a spot on the bed for himself amidst the frantically thrown piles of material.

"So, what's going on? It's not another charity drive because last time I hardly any clothes left and I need my clothes."

Laughing wryly, Kurt shook his head as he dug another arm full of garmets out of his closet, sorting through them one by own with a crinkled brow. "No charity drive. I'm just choosing an outfit."

"What for? Another royal wedding?" Finn laughed to himself.

It was sweet, really. Kurt couldn't help but smile. He knew Finn had absolutely no interest in anything monarchy related, nor did he have any knowledge of designers, fashion or the very specific art of accessorising yet he'd sat for the entirety of Will and Kate's wedding and endured it. There were freshly baked cookies and Pippa Middleton's fantastic figure involved but a small part of Kurt knew that they weren't the only reason Finn had stuck around so long. He was trying.

Since then he'd dropped small hints every now and then. Every time it happened, Kurt could hear Finn's inner monologue and suddenly nothing could annoy him any longer. He was attempting to bond, trying to share something and, god bless him, it was blatant but really quite thoughtful for a guy who prayed to a grilled cheese sandwich to touch a girl's boob.

"As impressed as I am that you made the reference," Kurt began, attempting to keep a straight face but failing instantly, "I'm meeting a friend before Regionals tomorrow and I thought I'd prepared the perfect outfit but it's not quite right so I'm choosing a new one. Happy?"

"It's not Rachel is it because she kinda loves you, dude, but I don't think you need to make as much of an effort for her. It's only Rachel."

Kurt stopped mid fold and attempted to wade through the many things so _wrong _with that one sentence. "First of all, she's your girlfriend so she's a little more than 'only Rachel'. Secondly, when do I _**not **_make an effort when I leave the house, Rachel Berry or no? Thirdly, since when does Rachel Berry love me? We mutually dislike yet respect one another and finally, it's not for Rachel. It's a different friend."

Kurt watched as Finn's brain cogs turned trying to work out who it could possibly be. He hadn't told anyone about meeting Blaine except Mercedes. Kurt knew he was safe, knew Blaine was real and not a creep middle aged desperado and was certain it would all be fine but he'd seen the news every once in a while and wasn't going to be one of _those _people who didn't take precautions.

"So if it's not Rachel then who is it because, not being rude, dude, but you haven't got any other friends except for us Glee club guys."

Slotting a studded shirt over his chair, Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, thank you for pointing that out to me, Finn, but you're in fact wrong. I do have other friends."

Finn frowned. "Like who? You've never mentioned anyone."

"I don't tell you _everything_, Finn."

"Oh."

Kurt held a handful of bow ties, each draped in a line, close to the shirt, tilting his head at each in turn. He could positively feel Finn's desperation to dig but no way was he going to spill. Blaine was separate from everything and, for now, it was one of the special things about their friendship. Blaine wasn't complicated. He was neutral and kind and supportive even from a distance and that was the most sacred thing.

"How about we have warm milk again? If you leave me to choose my outfit, I'll meet you downstairs in ten. Yes?"

Finn beamed. "Sounds awesome," he swallowed, his eyes searching for Kurt to speak further. When silence took over, he added, "And whoever this guy is, I, erm, I hope you're careful because there are some weirdos out there so if you need someone to keep watch or whatever then I can do that. It's what brothers do, right?"

Kurt stopped, his arms full of potential jeans. "I didn't tell you it was a guy."

"Didn't have to, dude. I know you're super anal," Finn blushed but carried on, "...I mean, super particular about your clothes but you're never this bad and plus, I'm not stupid. I know you've been writing to someone but it's cool. If he makes you smile."

Kurt held his trapped breath at the back of his throat. Finn wasn't one to shock people, except when they realised how very little common sense he had, but Kurt was speechless. Not only was Finn offering to play the protective and rather adorable big brother, he had also been astute enough to actually see past the end of his nose. The best thing though was his acceptance.

"I don't think it'll be necessary for you to come," Kurt offered, his voice startled but soft, "but thank you, Finn. That's really nice of you."

"Yea, well." Finn shrugged with a lopsided smile before disappearing downstairs.

It took Kurt only a few more minutes to decide finally upon an outfit. His room was finally neat once more except for a pair of his favourite deep navy skinny jeans, a patterned monochrome shirt with a thin knit grey waistcoat, which was to be worn open with a loose red McQueen skull scarf. _Perfect._

He hadn't spoken to Blaine since their phone call and his birthday but it was normal for them. Their contact had always been sporadic, which – in a way – made it that bit extra special when they did connect because not only was it hoped for but it was a surprise.

Kurt steadied his breathing as he filled his sink with warm water. Swirling it around with his fingers, he thought about what it would be like to sit opposite Blaine, to hear his voice in person, to look into his eyes when they spoke, to actually be in the same room and close to him. It wasn't a surprise that his heart had been hammering consistently all day, teamed with slightly sweaty palms and his mind cycling through a constant stream of possible topics to turn to in case conversation dried up.

They'd talked about so much, shared so much and connected from a distance but there was always a worry that the dreaded small talk would take over and they'd avoid any form of actual communication.

Blaine was interesting; he was cultured and intelligent so there wasn't a worry that they'd run out of mutual interests as Kurt knew he could learn from Blaine and also teach him a few things too. They both shared enough in common that their interests sparked discussion about things they didn't necessarily share – in a way, Kurt concluded as he scrubbed his washcloth over his face in a perfected motion, they were a pretty perfect fit.

As he leaned back and patted his face dry, he frowned in his bathroom mirror and wondered how much of the redness on his cheeks was from the rough exfoliation and how much was sheer nerves and a tiny bit of blush.

He liked Blaine – _like _liked him. That was obvious and shamefully Blaine was fully aware but there was something in the written words Kurt had been reading over the months that told Kurt that Blaine might be confident and sure of himself in many ways but he might not quite believe the hype.

There was also the fact that Kurt knew he'd sworn to himself that there would never be a rehashing of the previous year. He'd never fall head over heels and stupidly in love with someone without sensible reason to regardless of his heart's desperate wish to feel what it would be like and if the songs had been right all along.

Blaine didn't even think of him in that way so there was absolutely a reason to hold steady and remind himself to be rational and logical. They were friends. Only.

As strange as it was knowing a 'stranger' so deeply, Kurt smiled to himself as he fastened the buttons of his deep red pyjamas, pulling a loose black sweater over his head and sliding his feet into velour slippers – Blaine didn't feel like a stranger at all. Next to Mercedes and, god forbid, Rachel Berry, he was one of the first people Kurt thought of when he felt down. The New Directions would always be the dysfunctional family they'd shown themselves to be and experience had shown how strongly they cared about one another but it was something to treasure when another person, completely unrelated to him without any ties or any allegiances, cared enough to stick around.

Blaine had been the little ray of sunshine during the dark Winter but now... now he was going to be sitting a metre away and Kurt, with a racing heart and teasing smile, wasn't quite sure how he was going to deal with that.

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><p>Blaine flopped down on his bed, phone in hand and took a deep breath. In front of him, hanging neatly on a hanger at the front of his wardrobe, was his chosen outfit and beside it, his Dalton uniform. He knew he'd have to find somewhere to get changed for the competition as the other guys would be travelling in their blazers but the thought of meeting Kurt in navy and red was disconcerting.<p>

He knew Kurt well enough to know that he'd be suitably fabulous and it didn't seem right to deny him the effort in return.

Blaine was nervous.

In a way, it was like meeting Kurt for the first time regardless of their letters. He'd be different in real life. As saturated as his letters were with his personality, biting wit and enormous compassion, Blaine knew he'd get to know the real Kurt. He'd be so very close by and potentially a shock in real life. He'd have tone of voice, mannerisms, timing and it'd be spontaneous and scary all at once.

Thinking back to their first letters, Blaine smiled, remembering how formal he'd been and how utterly desperate he'd felt.

He was still the same guy on a day-to-day basis: a Warbler, a well presented Dalton Prefect and a son, but something had changed. Before Kurt and his completely embraced self, Blaine knew he hadn't expressed himself in the way his heart needed him to. He'd longed to just speak his mind and bare his soul for so long and as terrifying as it had been with Kurt, he'd done it.

He hadn't masked himself nor had he been forced to pretend he was something different – he wasn't perfect.

He had a short fuse sometimes. He tried a little too hard. He had very specific raging insecurities. He was pretty damned clueless when it came to a lot of things but he knew himself well enough to be sure that anything he ever did wrong or anytime he ever disappointed someone, he'd try with every ounce of energy to put it right.

He knew that mistakes had been made and they'd continue to be made but Kurt wasn't perfect either and that was the refreshing reality.

He didn't have to pretend to be anything other than himself. Kurt had the courtesy to do the same and so, out of mutual respect and a serious need to be honest, they'd both adopted each other as their outlet.

Blaine knew, as he found Kurt's number in his phone and began to type out a short message, that regardless of their unconventional meeting, they were good to one another and were, in a sense, exactly what they had been looking for in what seemed like forever.

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><p><em>Hey Kurt! It's Blaine. I know I'm breaking so many rules (again) but I just wanted to make sure you were still ok for tomorrow morning? I can't wait. Sleep well :) Love, Blaine xx<em>

**Don't be ridiculous, of course I'm still coming! I caved and made Finn cookies and warm milk so I may have some left over to bring. For you. 9am sharp, I'll be there. Sweet dreams, Kurt x**

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><p><strong><strong>~tbc<strong>**

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><p><strong><strong><em>[Please note: I am going to try my VERY best to get Part 8B- 'Tuesday' up tomorrow, on actual Tuesday, but I have a dentist's appointment in the morning and I have a MAJOR phobia of needles so the impending doom of getting one and also having work done may mean it's delayed. Just know that it'll be up as soon as I can : ) ]<em>  
><strong>**


	12. Tuesday Morning at the Lima Bean

**Author's Notes**_  
><em>

_I'm SO sorry this is a few days late. A simple dentists app turned into a mouth op and days of horrible pain. I hope the actual Chapter makes up for the delay.  
>I decided to scrap part 8C and just include it here. It was never going to be overly long anyway!<em>

_The next Chapter is one that I am so giddy about. It's cheesily entitled in my mind as 'Tea parties, tissues and taking chances''._

_Thank you to the ever lovely ___**ccmskatechick**___ and __**whenidance**__ for helping with eradicating my Britishisms and generally being wonderful! Also to ALL of the 'lovetheblazer' ladies who are so fabulous it's ridiculous.  
>THANK YOU to those who have left the most snuggleworthy reviews and recc-d this at various places. It means so much to me.<em>

_Enjoy and YEY THEY MEET AT LAST! ;)_

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><p><strong>Tuesday Morning at the Lima Bean<strong>

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><p>The Lima Bean was warm in comparison to the world outside, the sheet white sky and icy wind acting as the perfect backdrop to winter.<p>

Blaine found his wallet, fingers shaking a little as he repositioned the bag over his arm, and stepped forward in the line.

The sound of percolators and the smell of roasting coffee beans were always comforting. Ever since his grandmother had schooled him in the art of coffee making and drinking, he'd taken immense pleasure in perfecting the art and only visiting the best joints in the area.

Business men and women, professional in their starch suits and shiny shoes, were already enjoying their fix alongside arty types and hipsters with moleskin notebooks and iPods but it was the smattering of couples that caught Blaine's eye.

The seating area wasn't huge; the chairs and tables were close enough to hear a near-by conversation. Blaine swallowed, keeping his eye on the queue's end, and surveyed the possible places to sit. He knew Kurt would arrive soon as it was ticking on 8.45 but he wanted to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible.

They were comfortable with each other from afar, easy talking about their lives and the more serious things they had on their minds but Blaine knew that awkwardness and nervousness was impossible to avoid. It was inevitable and the more forward thinking about location of their seat and other defining decisions would make a big difference.

The barista smiled and raised her eyebrows when the queue died down.

"One Medium Drip and one Grande Non Fat Mocha, please, and could I also order two biscotti and two caramel wafers."

The curly haired blonde girl nodded. "Sure, collect it at the end," she sang happily with a grin, "and don't look so sad, it might never happen!"

Blaine flinched. "Oh sorry," he hurried, "I was in another world. My apologies. I'm not sad, just distracted." He feigned a smile and tried to be polite, after all she was so shiny and happy in return.

"Ooh don't worry about it," she replied, her voice soft, "I serve hundreds of people who barely look me in the eyes so it's nice to serve someone who talks."

"Well, I can definitely do that." She was nice, her smile welcoming and a break from the barista he was used to - some moody guy with fat dreads and six piercings along each eyebrow.

She began stirring and pouring, heating and mixing as she spoke. "So, any plans for today?" she asked with another beaming smile. Blaine grinned back, small but noticeable.

"It's the Regional Show Choir Championships this afternoon and my club is competing. I'm the front man." He knew he'd added the final comment for effect. He wasn't a bragger as such but being the Warblers lead for so long was an achievement and one he didn't mind people knowing about.

"Ahha I see," she cooed, scalding the milk, "so that's why you're distracted."

Blaine laughed a little, wry and rough with nerves. He was usually smoother than this - that much he knew - but he didn't often encounter nerves and apprehension. His brain was over thinking and his mind racing - it wasn't helping.

"It's not so much the competition. I've mostly always been lead soloist for our competitions so I don't feel the pressure as much but I'm, um," he stuttered, wondering how he'd entirely lost his cool all of a sudden, "meeting someone."

He'd never been in this situation before. In a way, he wanted to boast and tell everyone about his new found spontaneity but it was still Ohio, so he kept quiet – some people wouldn't appreciate the truth.

"Well," the blonde girl said with a grin, all teeth and genuine enthusiasm, "I hope it goes well. Here, have one of these on the house. They were left over from Valentine's Day and they're too cute to throw away in my opinion. Just give me a wink if you need a refill and we'll call it a gift, ok?"

Blaine frowned a little in shock. "Wow, thank you. That's very kind." He took the two mugs and balanced the plate in his hand as she waved him away, smiling.

Knowing that kindness was so rare, Blaine couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew the nerves stemmed from more than just meeting Kurt for the first time though. They were going to be two boys sitting down for coffee together and in small town Ohio, that wasn't always accepted too kindly.

He knew he'd suffered. The memories would always be to hand and there to dredge up to remind him of exactly how cruel the world could be. It wasn't as if he'd chosen his own reality but there it was and he would soon be sitting opposite someone who knew just how that felt.

It was a step he knew he'd always have to take.

Blaine knew he could never let his life become guarded enough to withdraw from the things that could potentially bring the most happiness. He knew he'd have to be strong and take a chance some day but the added pressure of meeting Kurt in such a setting for the first time, teamed with the 'will Kurt like me?' stress... safe to say, Blaine needed the coffee.

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

Kurt wiggled the ice cold tips of his fingers outside of his fingerless gloves and threw the unruly end of his scarf - Blaine's scarf - over his shoulder. It fell down immediately and with a huff and a swift roll of his eyes, he placed it exactly in position with fingers that refused to settle.

He couldn't go in.

He'd never done anything as reckless and schmaltzy and random and spontaneous and scary and so far out of his comfort zone before. The panicking was clouding his usually logical and controlled thought processes and he knew that the second he saw Blaine - whether through the window or face-to-face - he'd stop dead and all rational thought would fly away, up to the non-existent heavens to mock his lack of experience from above.

He had to move though, had to take the few necessary steps towards the Lima Bean and get a grip.

With a shaky inhale, he forced his feet to move and burrowed his half warm half cold hands deep into the pockets of his vintage Dior swing coat.

As he reached the doorway and moved aside to allow a lady to push a pram through the doors, Kurt saw him.

It was hard to miss him in a sea of business people and couples, which were only typical for the time of morning.

It took less than a second for Kurt to take a step back and just... look.

It was then that the reality hit him square in the face. It was really happening. Blaine wasn't just a guy, he was a close friend, a confidant and someone - one of the only people ever, really - that Kurt knew he trusted and actually envisaged keeping a hold of for a long time.

Blaine was someone he could keep in his life.

Meeting him wasn't a one-off, it wasn't just a simple way of rounding off their quirky story - Blaine lived close by, he was gay, he was a friend and he seemed to feel exactly the same way in return.

Kurt laughed to himself, burying his face momentarily within the folds of grey and red, and took a deep breath.

Blaine looked... _good._

Don't make things up in your head. Don't let your emotions run away with themselves. Don't paint an epic romance where there is none.

Like a cycling mantra, Kurt let the words rest in the corners of his mind as he felt an unruly blush creep at his cheeks.

Blaine wasn't in uniform, which was the first noticeable thing. He'd opted for what looked like dark turn up jeans, black scuffed boots and an emerald green henley under what appeared to be a dusky grey cardigan, unbuttoned but tight around the arms and shoulders. He was smaller than Kurt remembered too but broader in the way he seemed to sit upright in the chair, eyes down on his right hand as it stirred rhythmically at whatever drink he'd bought.

With a skipping heart, Kurt saw the plate of something unhealthy and a mug of coffee for the empty chair opposite.

Blaine had bought him a drink already.

Kurt could feel his heart pounding, the blood rushing to his ears and heightening the intensity of his senses. Blaine looked focused yet far away and Kurt knew that he'd have to make the first move.

He closed his eyes for a second then walked without another thought.

With heart beat in his fingertips, Kurt made his way to where Blaine was sitting - still stirring to a perfect beat - and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Bonjour, Blaine."

It was cheesy, inexcusable and Kurt knew in an instant he'd regret it, which seemed to be evidenced by the lightening fast flush to his cheeks; he luckily straightened up just as Blaine stopped stirring and turned quickly.

"Kurt," he said simply, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as if to speak but no words came out.

Kurt felt his skin flood warm and the only breath possible catch in the back of his throat as he smiled a little.

"We said no small talk. No awkwardness. This is me sticking by our rules. Hello."

Blaine smiled then, his shoulders noticeably relaxing as he pushed back to go to stand but Kurt circled the table and took a chair without a thought.

"Non fat mocha, ready and waiting," Blaine said with a smile. Kurt noticed in that second just how bright and hazel they were and exactly how his own nerves were mirrored.

"Thank you."

Kurt sat down, hands reaching for the warmth of the mug. Blaine did the same without realising.

Blaine couldn't breathe.

One look at Kurt in his obviously normal clothes was enough to remove every coherent sentence from his usually competent brain, replacing it with _'is he for real?'_

The _jeans._

The way his long sleeves made his arms appear slender but never-ending.

The softness of his hair, so precisely groomed and so cool.

The... scarf. _He was wearing it_.

It seemed to be _everything_. He was different. At Sectionals, Kurt had blended for the most part with his eyes and pale skin providing the defining features but Blaine knew as he'd turned around exactly how impossible he was going to find sitting opposite Kurt for an extended period of time.

Blaine felt his brain scream, screeching to 'just say something. Anything' before forcing himself to relax into the moment, to urge his shoulders to slacken, his smile to slide more easily onto his face and legs to stop tensing.

"The barista was kind enough to give us a few free extras," he said softly, eyes tentative to glance into Kurt's, "help yourself."

Kurt's eyes widened and a smirk followed. "How did you pull that off? Bat your eyelashes?"

Kurt swallowed, reaching to hold tight to the mug in front of him for grounding. Blaine's eyelashes were not an ideal topic of conversation - they were distracting enough.

"Just my natural charm," Blaine said simply, a small grin teasing at his lips. Kurt was nervous. He could sense it in the air, how thick it was and exactly how gentle Kurt seemed to be. It wasn't right. He had to do something.

"Ok," Blaine said quickly, snapping the silence in two and causing Kurt to blink, mid coffee mouthful. "I'm breaking the ice, which feels miles thick, and I'm going to give you my present. Is that ok?"

Blaine watched Kurt elegantly - it was a perfect word from a long list to describe Kurt in real life - plant his coffee down. He took a breath and nodded. "I think that would be acceptable. Yes."

Blaine saw the spark in Kurt's eyes fire up for a moment and knew he was onto something.

Kurt watched as Blaine leaned down, cardigan folding against his skin in all the right places. It was criminal really. He knew he'd have to keep his feelings under wraps, as a sure fire away to have Blaine running for the hills was to be obvious. It was difficult though - so very difficult.

As Blaine sat upright again, his hands and eyes focused upon unwrapping tissue paper and ribbons, Kurt could see the deep purple reflected in Blaine's eyes, the soft way his hair curled at the edges (no doubt expertly styled thanks to Kurt's own product suggestion) and how his cardigan sleeves dragged at the wrists to reveal a stylish and very expensive watch which stood out against his more tanned skin.

In a second, Kurt felt the insecurity tug hard. He was pale and oddly proportioned and, yes, he looked good in a well thought out ensemble but that was all smoke and mirrors - Blaine's attractive qualities would have still shone bright if he wore a garbage bag.

"Kurt?"

_Oh hell._ Blinking back into the moment - _again_- Kurt allowed himself to look into Blaine's eyes.

"I've bored you already."

Blaine's face was serious. Wide eyes sat above a quietly concerned expression.

Reaching out in a split second or even less to the table in front of him, Kurt gasped. "No. Not at all. Just..." he trailed off, lips pouting slightly as he grappled for the correct thing to say. "This is just surreal. That's all."

Blaine let out a laugh, his eyes rolling as he bit his lip. "I was kidding... joking... and badly, apparently."

_I'm an idiot_. It was the only conclusion Kurt could come to. "Right. Apparently I left my sense of humour at the door. I'm not exactly what you'd call an expert at these kinds of situations. Give me a stage and a mic or an idiot in a Letterman jacket and I'm Obama-level articulate and fabulous but clearly I'm a wreck otherwise. Fantastic."

Kurt could feel the flush hit his cheeks immediately.

It was so cute. Very cute. Blaine chuckled to himself as he pulled the package from its confines. Looking up at Kurt, he'd spotted the slight pinkness to his cheeks and averted his eyes out of politeness. He knew he was a bad joke away from falling to pieces himself so the least Kurt deserved was a moment.

It didn't take that long. As he glanced back, Kurt was composed, fingers loose around his mug and eyes fixed on the package. They were sparkling.

Feeling as if he'd seen so many facets of Kurt's personality already, Blaine could feel his heart swell. He'd never done this with anyone before and in a refreshing way it was so pleasantly overwhelming.

"You're just like I imagined, you know?"

He could barely stop his mouth from forming the words. As they hung in the air in the meter between them both, Blaine knew it would be comments like that which would guarantee him a reputation for being terrible at... everything real, everything serious.

Kurt couldn't feel his fingers and it wasn't due to the heat of the mug in his hands. Blaine was staring, his eyes seemingly acting as the only part of him capable of expressing his true feelings. The rest of him was so well put together. Something deep down felt proud that he got to be the one to witness that.

"Oh great," Kurt scoffed, his lips pursing, "and here I thought I embodied a little mystery. Damn it."

Blaine laughed, genuine and sweet. Kurt knew by the way Blaine blinked a few times and stared down at the package as if it were a precious diamond, that he was stunned. Perhaps in the same way Kurt was.

"Here," Blaine offered. He held the package out with a deep breath as if to reconnect with a little ounce of confidence.

"Blaine, you really didn't have to," Kurt shook his head but then winked, "although I'm pleased you did. I love presents."

Blaine knew he was giving too much away. He couldn't do it normally, his actions were considered and words careful but it was Kurt...

He laughed and sat back to take a sip of coffee as Kurt picked lovingly at the gold ribbon. It was clearly a winning choice to gift wrap it if the gleam in Kurt's eyes and the way he folded the ribbon into his pocket was anything to go by.

Gently opening the wooden box, Kurt felt his throat catch.

"Oh my. Blaine." Words escaped him. In the centre of the box, surrounded by expertly swirled gold paper, was a large tarnished antique-silver brooch in the shape of a 'K'. Around the lengths of silver were sculpted vines adorned with delicate silver flowers and a small dainty bird perched on one stem.

"Do you like it? I saw it at a market in Rome and it was hard to walk by and leave it behind."

Turning the brooch between his fingers, Kurt couldn't focus. The only people in his life to buy him presents were family members and Mercedes; they were obliged to be lovely during holidays but this was different - it was a whole other level of 'thoughtful'.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

Blaine bit his lip, hiding the face splitting smile he knew would appear.

"The lady I bought it from didn't speak a word of anything but Italian but the little I do know was helpful to allow me to understand that it's a scarf pin."

Kurt giggled - actually giggled - and closed his eyes momentarily. "You are joking, right?"

Laughing, Blaine shook his head. "No. One hundred percent true." As Kurt looked up, eyes wide and gracious, there was no way he could think straight.

"I don't ever want to wear it because I think my heart would break if I lost it. I just know that if it fell to the floor in McKinley, either Puck would pawn it or Brittany would be trying to work out its magical powers."

Chuckling, Blaine worried the end of his cuffs. It was hard to retain the eye contact. The months they'd spent sharing their lives was oddly too intense now they were face-to-face. Every time Kurt opened his mouth, his voice was fascinating but it was the social queues and mannerisms he'd been missing.

Kurt had a way of lengthening his neck and jutting out his chin to add extra effect to every single important word. He had very pretty eyes – Blaine had noticed this from the start – but they were different when focused upon you. They were everything.

Kurt didn't speak with his lips and his voice and lyrical tone; he spoke with his eyes and every glance into them was an insight into his soul. Blaine was sure he'd never met anyone quite so luminous – it was the only word that sprung to mind.

Kurt was statuesque too. He sat still and sturdy, as if nobody could break him if they tried, but it was the elegance with which he held himself and moved that obliterated the stereotype.

Blaine found himself smiling uncontrollably. Nobody, in his entire life, was impossible to describe. Even his family members were easy to sum up as their characters were precise and obvious – even acquaintances were summarised effortlessly but it seemed that Kurt couldn't be.

Blaine knew the moment he attempted to find an adjective worthy and fitting, his brain would add a _'no but'_ to the end and there another contradicting list would form until Kurt wasn't one thing, he was the other and more and...

"Blaine?"

He sucked in a lung full of air and focused back in, noticing Kurt's uneasy forehead crinkle.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Kurt asked, head tilting demurely, his hands clasped together on the table now.

"Just, this."

Kurt shuffled in his chair, a hand automatically reaching to smooth down his silk scarf. Blaine could feel his heart in his throat.

"You're the same as I expected too, you know? For the record."

Smiling, Blaine ducked his head. "Really? Because I'm not so self aware."

"Coming from the guy who wrote to me in Latin, sent me holiday cards and phoned me specially on my birthday, I think it's safe to say that you had to impress," Blaine laughed, frowning at his own apparent cheesiness, "but you're not a let down yet."

The sarcasm was lost on most people in Kurt's life – he knew that – but Blaine seemed to enjoy it. "Oh well, I'll be sure to keep it up. Thank you for your assessment."

Kurt let out a sharp laugh before muffling it with his hand. "You're so welcome."

"Would you like a caramel wafer?"

It sounded exceptionally cool in his mind but Blaine said it anyway, outwardly cringing as he watched Kurt stifle a giggle. It was worth the humiliation to see Kurt smile like that – this, Blaine was realising rapidly.

"Now I'm getting why that barista treated you. Charm personified."

"Here." Blaine tore open the packet with rolling eyes, passing one to Kurt who held it between finger and thumb as if it were laced with poison. "It's not going to bite."

"I know," Kurt whined, unsure how he'd suddenly become so relaxed, "but this looks plastic. Are you certain this monstrosity is edible."

"You've _never _had a caramel wafer?"

Kurt pulled a face and examined it. "No, but I'm sure I'm about to find out what they taste like."

Blaine nodded. "Follow my lead and I promise you, it'll blow your mind."

As Blaine spoke, the fingers on his free hand fanned out and gestured to emphasise every syllable. Kurt was close to beaming embarrassingly, his lips desperate to smile because not only was Blaine obviously stifling his own excitement but the ever so slight and miniscule hints at _'real'_ and relaxed Blaine were simply enchanting.

As Blaine rested the wafer over the steam of his coffee, Kurt kept his eyes steadfast and copied the action whilst being careful not to burn any fingers.

"Now we wait."

Kurt chuckled but stopped dead, appreciating the utter sincerity of Blaine's face, the way he nodded matter of factly at his own clever trick and seemed younger and much more playful. Kurt had never expected that – not from his letters – but it was there, a twinkle in Blaine's eyes of something repressed deep down.

The thrill was that Kurt knew he was lucky to see it _at all_.

"Oh you're serious."

Blaine took in Kurt's bemused expression with a smile. "Wait until it starts to melt. If you don't like it, it's ok. It's kind of stupid but it's something I do so I thought..."

"No," Kurt interjected, careful to explain himself, "I like things like this. I have plenty of freaky things I do so you're not alone. It'll just cost me an extra hour on my treadmill and a face mask but I can deal with that."

After a moment, Blaine peeled the wafer back and began pulling it apart, the caramel sticky and stringing together. Kurt copied, careful to keep any mess away from his clothes.

"Ohmygodthisisamazing."

Blaine smiled smugly. "Told you, and if you eat between mouthfuls it's even better." He couldn't help but fall mesmerised by Kurt's languid chewing and fluttering eyelashes bit corrected himself before it became embarrassing.

"So, how's school?"

"Fine," Kurt affirms between mouthfuls. "It's just the same really. Last week, Puck and Lauren were caught doing unmentionable things in the janitor's closet, Rachel decided that she may be considering getting a nose job ala Quinn after Finn's dancing almost broke her face and Sam called me last night to ask if I'd help him in a couple of days with something top secret – I suspect he requires hair advice. So, all in all, McKinley is as weird as ever."

"Wow."

Kurt laughed wryly. "Wow is an understatement. You get to spend the afternoon in the same room as these people. Be scared, Blaine."

"Believe me, ever since you described them, I thought you were over exaggerating but after Sectionals... I understand and I promise to psyche myself up. Dalton's kind of sheltered. No making out in closets – just hiding in them. No plastic surgery – that's just the moms. I guess there are plenty of secrets but we're not a sharing community with our emotions."

Kurt giggled, wiping his fingers on a napkin. "Sounds like heaven to me. Are you sure there isn't a transfer window. I think I could rock the preppy look. I have a beautiful new brooch to adorn a forlorn blazer with!"

"You'd get detention for, and I quote, 'defacing the sanctity of our uniform'."

Kurt bit back a laugh. "You're not serious."

"Oh I am," Blaine smirked, "maybe I'll let you try mine on later before the show. You can see how the preppy look works for you... although I can't see you failing to pull it off."

He caught it. Kurt's cheeks bloomed a little with the faintest blush but it was there nonetheless. Blaine watched Kurt swallow hard to cover it up.

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"It's a deal."

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

"You should feel privileged."

They'd been talking for an hour and a half about anything and everything. The topics were fluid and entirely unrelated, which Kurt cherished for the sheer fact that they were at ease. The conversation hadn't turned serious for a long time but Kurt could tell that it could at any second and it'd be fine – they'd manage that.

"Why's that?" Blaine asked. Kurt was different now. He wasn't so still, his hands gesturing and facial expressions much more animated in a way that spoke only of comfort. Their lack of face-to-face contact meant they'd missed out on a lot for the beginning of a friendship but it had taken them mere hours to catch themselves up. Blaine knew he'd even leaned a little closer, his arms on the table and back straight but angled forward. Kurt had kept the same posture for an hour until he'd rested back into his seat and repositioned his legs just to the side of Blaine's – close enough to touch but far enough to retain boundaries.

Blaine knew the swirly feeling in his stomach wasn't due to his second cup of coffee.

"Because I don't share my recipes with anyone. They're MI5 level top secret."

"These look delicious. Really really delicious," Blaine cooed. The little box of cookies was adorable. It was clear that Kurt had taken time to make them look pretty; it resembled a Christmas present, all bows and sparkly streamers and a label that simply read '**Blaine, Please enjoy. Kurt xx PS: Share the recipe and I'll cut off your fingers**'.

He could hardly breathe for laughing.

"It's not a laughing matter, Blaine Anderson."

Kurt clasped his hands together tight. It was that or reach out to touch Blaine in some way. His levels of 'charming' were hitting the obnoxiously high mark and when he smiled, Kurt couldn't help but try to memorise the way his eyes scrunched up in the most adorable way.

He was handsome – first and foremost – but there was something about his height or his eyes or even the still tragic hair that softened the initial intensity. Kurt could almost see the facade slipping, its edges fraying and allowing the true Blaine to peek through.

Kurt liked what was underneath. Very much.

"So, I wanted to ask you something and now that you've threatened my life, I don't think there could be a more fitting moment." Kurt raised his eyebrows questioningly, leaning forward in his seat, "I wanted to ask about tomorrow."

_There it was_, the flick of the metaphorical switch that Kurt knew was coming. They had to address it. "Well, if we win, I'll be attempting to quell Rachel's overzealous ego and if we lose, I'll no doubt be the one to calm her rage as Finn's as useless as a chocolate fireguard."

Laughing a little, Blaine pushed further. "I meant in the realm of Kurt and Blaine."

Kurt felt his stomach flutter in a way he was absolutely not used to. Their names sounded good together. _Stop it_, he told himself, _stop it right now_. "You and I?"

"Those are our names, yes."

Kurt swatted the air as if it were Blaine. "Shut up. You know what I mean. I just... I guess we stay friends."

"Oh god, of course," Blaine rushed. Kurt's eyes were wide and expectant as if a wrong word would shatter whatever he was trying so hard to keep solid inside. He was holding his breath, Blaine could see that, and it only meant one thing – he was worried things would stop. Or so he hoped. "I just meant, with our rules. Do we write, do we write and meet up or do we pack away our stationary and do the friends thing as normal?"

Swallowing, Kurt bit his lips. Nerves seeped back in immediately. He wanted to say '_yes, of god yes I want to be friends and see you as often as I can because you make me smile and I haven't done that a lot in recent years'_ but what came out was "I like my stationary."

It took effort not to slap his own face.

Blaine's household was never touchy feely; they didn't hug a lot or initiate touching unless absolutely necessary but he always knew he was tactile with others to make up for that. Contact with others was so important and he knew he'd always wished for that connection, that warmth and closeness he'd always dreamed could exist when he found someone special to be with.

He had the urge to reach out a lot but it had never been stronger than looking at Kurt's eyes, bright and shining. He was clearly masking his feelings and if Blaine knew anything well, it was the art of putting on a front.

"I want to be friends. Normal friends."

Kurt all but collapsed with relief. "Me too." He knew his face was on fire but it didn't seem to matter for a moment as Blaine smiled, biting his lip and laughing behind his hand.

"Good. Well we've cleared that up."

Kurt settled forward on the table once more. "So, what do we do?"

As if to create a mirror image, Blaine rested his chin on his knuckles. "Friend things."

Laughing, Kurt rolled his eyes. "Helpful."

"Ok then," Blaine grinned, "so we meet up."

It was miraculous, the feeling of being able to plan and actually see Blaine whenever he wanted. He'd simply been a gorgeous guy from a competing Glee Club but he wasn't anymore – he was so much more. The feeling hit Kurt hard, clutching at his heart until he could hardly breathe, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Do you want to come over this weekend?"

The intensity of the feeling those words caused shocked Blaine for a moment. _Yes, he did. Plain and simple_. Knowing Kurt for so long was a privilege and it had been one of the best times of his life but he knew, right then, that he wanted more.

"To your house?"

Kurt didn't smile; instead, his eyes widened and he breathed deep, eyelashes in a flurry. Blaine was sure he'd never seen anything quite as adorable. He knew he had to say 'yes' quickly as Kurt's heartbeat was almost audible.

"Yes. If that's weird for you then you don't have to, I just don't think you're ready to shop with me and we can't be repetitive and come _here _and well, there are other places but I thought-"

"I'd love to, Kurt. If you're not trying to talk yourself out of it that is." He smiled, trying to inject as much sincerity into it as possible. He wanted to go and badly – Kurt had to know that.

"Oh no. Ok, ok then. How about Saturday afternoon? I'm experiencing the pain of a Rachel Berry sleepover solo on Friday evening so I may need some normal company come Saturday."

"Oh, well maybe I shouldn't come over then. I don't I qualify," Blaine joked, enjoying the sparkle in Kurt's eyes far too much. The way he reacted to teasing was so addictive that Blaine knew he'd try to incite it as often as he could.

"Fine."

Feigning petulance, Kurt planted his lips together and pouted. He folded his arms and glanced around. He could feel Blaine's eyes on him, feel his smile and the glint in his eye. The more he felt it, the more he played. Kurt knew, as Blaine began to laugh, that he'd never ever experienced anything quite like it before. He _felt _Blaine beside him. He knew Blaine's dreams and some of his nightmares. He had opened his heart to Blaine and, as scary as it was to consider doing it again, there was a trust between them that made Kurt's throat tighten, his heart skipping with the mind blowing realisation that he was lucky enough.

It was his turn now.

_Maybe._

Blaine reached out, his arms stretching a little to cover the space between them. Kurt all but jumped out of his seat as Blaine's hands clasped his folded arms and attempted to pull them apart. "Don't be like that. I take it back!"

Kurt couldn't move. It took every ounce of effort to not flinch when Blaine's fingers firmly took hold.

Blaine chewed his lip, casting a glance as Kurt's face as he sat back. Kurt was blushing and it was just about the last straw to Blaine's resolve. It was criminal how _cute _Kurt was in real life. He wasn't like other guys at all. It was written in eloquence all over his face exactly how _much _he felt and how deeply too, so much so that it became fascinating to focus on the tiny shifts in mood and emotion.

Kurt has spoken about his lack of physical contact, the way he felt as if his life was void of affection. Blaine knew that as long as they were friends, he'd attempt to rewrite that fact.

"Won't your dad mind?" Blaine asked, breaking off a piece of biscotti.

Kurt watched his fingers as he spoke. "No, he's out with Carole all Saturday at Carole's mother's house. Finn will be in all day so I'm sure you'll have the pleasure of meeting him but as long as you remember he's a lolloping giant with the common sense of a twig then you'll be fine. He's sweet but he's an idiot."

Blaine ate between words. "I feel like I know them all so well – your Glee club – that if I do ever get the chance to meet them properly, it'll be hard to not put my foot in it."

Kurt's laugh was sarcastic and filled with a history of experience. "Believe me, they'd be wary of you coming from a competing school at first, then they'd mock you for something, no doubt Puck or Santana would have a hand in that, they'd ask you wildly inappropriate questions, you'd be Brittany's pet... literally... and immediately under the scrutiny of Rachel's accusatory glare not before Finn slaps you on the back and calls you bro and Artie has you rapping to Run DMC. You're dodging a bullet. Stay away."

"They mean a lot to you," Blaine said simply, resting his chin back on his fist, "I always read your letters and at first I thought you were serious about how much they annoyed you and how crazy they were but you love them."

"That's the worst thing you've ever said to me," Kurt deadpanned but Blaine saw the twitch at his lips.

"You particularly love Rachel too. I know Mercedes is, as you put it, 'your girl' but Rachel is special to you, isn't she?"

"I'm seconds away from causing you a biscotti themed death, Blaine."

Kurt could see just how much it was amusing Blaine to press him on personal matters. They'd been scattered through their conversations and usually subtle but they were being so honest with each other that, somehow, the more they touched upon the truth in their lives, the easier it became.

"They mean a lot to you."

"Yes." Kurt nodded once and offered a tiny smile. Blaine was pretty infuriating. "You like being right, don't you?"

Blaine covered his face and chuckled lightly. Kurt had him there. "It's a gift, what can I say. When you've got it, flaunt it."

Kurt sniggered, on the verge of hysterics. "That's the gayest thing I've ever heard you say or read or whatever."

With pink cheeks, Blaine closed his eyes in mock humiliation. "I buy you coffee and food and antique brooches and in return I get _this._"

"What?" Kurt gasped, hand on heart, "a flawless friend with exceptional taste and humour?"

Blaine couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He just _looked. _Kurt's eyes lingered for a second, widening as the silence dawned slowly. Blaine knew he couldn't look away, not for a moment. This is what he'd been missing for all of these years; he'd longed for someone to just _understand _him, to just _accept _him and for the need to explain himself and preface everything with an excuse to just disappear. He was himself with Kurt and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

"This isn't awkward at all, is it?" he asked, knowing he was crossing that line again but tiptoeing wasn't an option anymore.

Fighting a smile, Kurt shrugged. "Again, it helps if you have a flawless friend like me." Blaine could see antithesis in Kurt's eyes. Kurt cherished it all just as much as he did.

Mid-laugh, Blaine glanced down at his watch. His heart dropped at the knowledge they didn't have long before they had to be at the theatre.

"It's nearly twelve."

Kurt's face dropped. "Oh. Ok, then I guess we need to go."

"I guess so," Blaine sighed, mapping the forlorn expression on Kurt's face and wishing he could take it away. He didn't want to leave either.

Kurt watched as Blaine packed up his things, his eyes regretful. He wanted to hold onto the table, to the moment, for a little longer just to convince himself it was real and happening; for the first time in his life he felt comfortable around someone of the opposite sex whom he liked and who seemed (if it wasn't the rose tinted glasses talking) to feel the same way.

"So, um."

Kurt inwardly groaned. _So much for articulacy. _

Blaine stood up, brushing down his jeans.

Kurt regulated his breathing at the sight of Blaine's t-shirt, the material thin and soft looking, loosely skimming the rim of his jeans. It was innocent enough but Kurt knew he could be forgiven for gawping secretly when Blaine wasn't looking as he _was_ unfairly attractive.

Dreamy. That was the word he'd used in his letter.

"Good luck today," Blaine said finally, looking up as he swung his bag over his shoulder with a bright smile.

Kurt could feel the warmth of it.

"You too," he added, sliding his own bag over his shoulder and adding "but I actually hope you lose because well, I want to go to New York."

The sight of Blaine laughing hard as he picked up his other bag as enough to cause a swooning episode that Kurt wasn't all too sure was appropriate for a wholesome coffee chain.

"In that case, good luck trying to beat us. I hear The Warblers have an exceptional front man."

Kurt groaned. "Meh, I've heard he's a bit arrogant to be honest. Thinks too highly of himself. Wears too much hair gel. You know, the usual."

Blaine pressed his lips together in amusement. "I've heard he's pretty dreamy actually."

Kurt gasped. He couldn't quite move. Blaine's eyes glittered with a cruel sense of payback and a smidgen of humour. Kurt knew, right then, that he was done for.

Neither moved for a moment. Kurt felt his chest constrict at the stark reality that they weren't just teasing, they were _flirting_ and it was scary but... _incredible_.

Most days Kurt knew he felt twelve years old, void of any human contact, sex appeal or attractiveness but standing in front of Blaine he didn't quite care because his skin was on fire, heart beating wildly, cheeks hot under the scrutiny and he felt alive for the first time in years.

"I'm going to leave now before you reference any more of my unfortunate misgivings. It has been a pleasure, Blaine Anderson. Good day."

It was dramatic, Kurt knew that, but he couldn't help himself.

Blaine laughed loudly, grabbing the air as Kurt walked past quickly and headed for the door. Watching the way Kurt commanded the room, turning heads as he walked, was _one thing_ but Blaine couldn't focus his brain. He felt like he was losing his mind in a split second.

"Hey!" he called as the Lima Bean door closed and the cold air hit his face. Kurt outwardly shuddered, his arms drawn up by his sides. He'd thrown his scarf over his shoulder expertly. As Blaine reached him, he turned with a smirk. "I see you're wearing the scarf."

"I told you I wore it."

A slow smile spread onto Blaine's face holding much more affection than intended. "It looks good on you." He watched as Kurt shifted his feet and looked down then back up, his eyes shining under his eyelashes. "I suppose I'll see you on Saturday then."

Blaine nodded and took a step closer. "Joe's going to miss you."

Kurt laughed then, biting his lip. "Maybe I'll write to him instead."

"I'm sure he'd love that."

Kurt could feel the crackle of _something _between them but blinked it out of his mind. He couldn't go there. _Not yet_.

"So. Bye then."

Kurt smiled and turned to leave but Blaine caught his arm. "Um, isn't it customary to hug a friend goodbye?"

Kurt blinked rapidly, eyes full of shock. "I, um. I suppose."

With a fond smile, Blaine reached forward and wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders, drawing him closer.

Kurt struggled to focus. All he felt was the intense warmth surrounding him compared to the cool breeze and the firm sense of being held in place. As he felt Blaine twist his head, Blaine's skin hot against his own, Kurt was sure his legs would give out.

"This doesn't feel real," Blaine whispered against his ear causing Kurt to shudder and let out a short but nervous laugh.

Breathlessly, he muttered "I know." He couldn't think straight to form coherent sentences.

Blaine's hands slid down his arms, goosebumps forming in their path and butterflies flurrying in Kurt's stomach. He'd never felt it before - the desperation at loss of contact - but as Blaine stepped back, his own expression registering shock and awe, Kurt wanted to close the distance again.

He couldn't remember the last time he was touched quite so affectionately. If ever.

Blaine took a deep breath. Knowing Kurt as he did, he knew just how important their morning was. He knew, more than anything, exactly how much it had meant to both of them, how miraculous it all was but nothing could have possibly prepared him for the sheer emotion in Kurt's eyes.

Blaine watched them flicker in stunned silence. They didn't just sparkle, they drew you in and Blaine knew he'd never resist because a moment with Kurt rivalled any he'd spent with his Dalton friends or family.

That fact was too enormous to process. _This was the first time they'd ever met but it was as if they'd known each other for years._

"So," Blaine sighed, "I don't know if I'll get to see you when we get to the theatre but is it ok if I text you later?"

"That would be fine. You don't need to ask me, Blaine."

"I guess I don't."

"Ok," Kurt took a breath, hiding a smile, "have fun, Blaine Warbler."

Laughing lightly, Blaine nodded. "You too."

With that, Kurt ducked his head, his hands clutched at the strap of his messenger bag, and walked away.

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

Regionals passed quickly. Finn hadn't probed for information; instead he'd spent the afternoon making eyes at Rachel which, thankfully, mellowed her out extraordinarily well. She was bearable for the entirety of the competition.

Kurt had looked for Blaine when they weren't crammed into the Green Room but he was nowhere to be seen. He'd clocked a few guys in Dalton jackets but no Blaine.

As they took their seats for The Warblers set, Kurt couldn't sit still. He'd had the pleasure of watching Blaine perform once before but this time there was a world of history between them to make it a hundred times more exciting.

As a sea of blazers appeared when the house lights went up, Kurt caught his breath. Blaine in real life, in a cardigan eating biscotti, was one sight to behold but Blaine on stage was another things altogether. He was spectacular.

Kurt didn't move for the entire set, his lips firmly together and game face fixed but inside he was a pathetic mess - a teenage girl in the 60s at a Beatles concert didn't have a patch on him.

Pride swelled inside as he watched Blaine bow, his face beaming and sheened with sweat but looking as handsome as ever.

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

Blaine felt Jeff slide in the seat beside him.

"Dude, is he here?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"Awesome," Jeff mumbled, fishing in his bag for his candy.

He felt like he was holding his breath. The New Directions filed out in perfect unison, their costumes coordinated perfectly, but Kurt still stood out.

It was inevitable.

Rachel took lead, skipping and hopping to the beat as the rest of the group bopped and shimmied alongside her. Their enthusiasm was infectious but what was so obvious – and Blaine prided himself in hinting at it with Kurt earlier – was their love for one another.

Even the Mohawk dude was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Kurt, on the other hand, was the picture of professionalism. He danced the steps in perfect time, found his mark effortlessly and sang each note pitch perfectly, making it look as simple as breathing.

He shone brighter than most of the club – only Rachel really provided any competition for brightest star – and as they took their bows, Blaine knew they'd won.

It was a done deal and, as much as it hurt not to have the opportunity to explore the Big Apple, it was deserved.

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

Worrying his sleeve, Kurt stared at his phone on the bus back to McKinley. He glanced down, fingers lightly tracing the 'K' of his brooch currently holding his scarf in place, and smiled.

Watching The Warblers lose hadn't been fun. Yes, the New Directions were off to Nationals and the bright lights of New York, but that meant that Blaine wasn't.

He'd kept his eyes on them as the mad woman with the mic announced the winners. As Rachel jumped up and down beside him and into Finn's arms, Kurt had watched as every one of the Warblers smiled at one another in reassurance, offering kind pats and faces that said '_oh well'_. In the sea of navy and red, Blaine was a picture of calm, his leadership capabilities shining through. Kurt was still nervous.

_Would be angry? Would he be jealous? What did it mean for them?_

As he closed his eyes to block out Mike and Tina's slurping noises and Santana's obnoxiously loud iPod, he felt his phone buzz.

**Simply put, three hours is not long enough. I can't wait for Saturday. You were incredible. Just amazing. Congratulations. We'll have our chance next year but until then, the nursing homes of Lima are in for a treat! Lots of Love, Blaine xx**

**~tbc**

* * *

><p><strong>PLEASE NOTE: <strong>

_**I'm going on holiday tomorrow morning for a week. When I arrive home, I will have the rest of this story written in full. I already have a large chunk of it written so I'll post it every day when I return home : )**_

_**Thank you ALL for your lovely feedback and encouragement for this story. I've loved writing it so much so it's wonderful to know people are enjoying it. I hope a week's delay won't put you off. **_

**_Can't wait to catch up on the Glee madness when I return. Lots of love xx_  
><strong>


	13. Tea Party

**Author's Notes**

**_I'm eventually home from Spain and here is the new Chapter as promised! I had long days of endless nothingness all on my lonesome (what I needed!) by the pool with fruit and Spanish Lemonade so I got books read and lots written... and a little bit sunburned! _**

**_Canon is still being manipulated cruelly by me but you'll still see it popping up in different guises, however, there has to be a little more AU here as Dalton!Kurt doesn't exist! _**

**_These two 'think' so much in these next two Chapters... just bear with them ;) They do a lot of talking and doing too so don't worry :)  
><em>**

**_Seriously, to those who have left the most AMAZINGLY lovely reviews (including some of my absolute favourite writers - eek), I am so grateful. I swear, it means the world! I write for enjoyment and practice but to know people LIKE it and not only like it, actively want more, will always be amazing to me._**

**_Thank you as ever to my lovely beta Kerry (ccmskatechick/suchalilyofthevalley) for sorting out my Britishisms and being generally fabulous. You're just wonderful, my dear._**

**_PS: I got home and caught up on Glee/DC news and after those spoiler pictures of Blaine's wardrobe... my god I shall be spending Season 3 giggling. Amazing. Red Capri pants, Lou the costume designer, really? haha  
><em>**

* * *

><p>They'd been gone an hour - Carole ushering Burt out of the door with a swing of her purse as he muttered about reminding Finn to avoid the garage and remember the oven has an off switch - and Kurt was already making the most of the freedom. It felt exceptionally lovely to survey the entire house and know that, for a short weekend, it was his to use however he wished.<p>

Finn was there, of course, but as always, he was as malleable as dough and would eternally bend to will. Padding downstairs, Kurt rolled his shoulders and winced as they clicked.

_Rachel Berry_.

She was the root of the problem, Kurt decided. Her forced Singstar session had seemed fun - they were each able to belt out a solo to Celine, Britney, GaGa or Christina and both knew they'd relished the spotlight - but it was her insistence that every moment was an opportunity for a performance. Not only did they have to flex their jaw muscles and vocal chords but they'd sprung around the room, arms outstretched - Rachel offering the odd jete - and created music videos, all recorded on Rachel's dads' flip cam. Afterwards, once Kurt had re-shot them whilst using the contents of his 'dressing up box' they'd watched them through mouthfuls of vegetarian pizza and iced Cranberry juice, critiquing each as if they were judges on American Idol.

It had been fun.

Kurt frowned as he reached the kitchen. It couldn't be denied - he'd enjoyed a Rachel Berry sleepover even after her insisting that they watch her junior school revue taping where she played Cosette in a mud smeared tunic with a face full of stage make-up and red lipstick.

She was impossible and annoying - very annoying - but it had been one of the most ridiculous nights ever. For that reason alone, Kurt smiled, tapping the kettle switch, the night had been nothing short of brilliant.

The nerves came when he remembered that from twelve noon, Blaine would be sitting in his lounge, drinking from his mugs, leaving his shoes at his door (hopefully) and visiting his bedroom.

In the words of Finn Hudson, Kurt was left to pray to Grilled Cheesus that he wouldn't crumble into a heap on the door mat.

"Hey," Finn called, bouncing down the stairs two at a time, "you making food?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, but I can make you something if you hold up your end of the bargain and wash up those dishes like you promised."

"Can I do them without those gloves?" Finn whined, face screwed up, "because I mean, dude, I'm a guy not my mom."

With a groan, Kurt began assembling what he needed for his tea. "Finn, do you want the hands of an eighty year old when you're twenty? Cleaning products are abrasive, you know?"

As if Newton's Law had just been explained to him, Finn frowned. "I don't know what that word means but if it's something bad then there's no worries, bro, I have tough skin. My mom says so."

"Metephorically, Finn. Not literally."

As if complimented, Finn grinned, "Awesome."

Kurt didn't question or reply. Instead he chuckled with only a mere hint of sarcasm and stirred his tea. "Just wash them and I'll make you a plate of sandwiches in a bit, ok?"

"With that new salami stuff?"

"Yes, Finn. I'll use the new salami. And I might just make some of that banana bread this weekend if you promise me something else?"

"You're gonna have to write these down, dude."

Kurt took a deep and necessary breath but knew he had to keep his 'brother' sweet - if Blaine was to survive the day without mortification then Finn Hudson had to stay clear and respectful.

"Ok. I will. I just," Kurt attempted, unsure how to approach the subject, "I have a friend coming over so I would be really grateful if you'd give us some privacy and just be kind to him."

"Is it that Blaine dude? The one who writes all the letters?"

"Yes."

"The guy you were staring at at Regionals?"

"What?" Kurt spluttered, dropping the teaspoon, "I wasn't staring!"

"Oh no, don't worry. I wouldn't say anything. It's just Rachel said he was the same guy you'd been writing to and I put two and two together."

"That'll be a first and oh lucky me that I'm on the receiving end of it."

"Well, I'll stay out of your way but as your older brother-"

"By a matter of a few months, Finn."

"Older is older."

"Ok. What? What, as my 'older' brother do you want to say?"

Finn stood tall and swallowed. Clearly taking the moral high ground was something he was going to take extremely seriously. "My mom always makes me keep the door open when I have Rachel over and she says 'not under my roof', which I'm presuming means that she doesn't want anything hardcore happening so we just stick to kissing and touching and not that Rachel will let-"

"Shut up right now," Kurt said sharply, screwing up his face in disgust. He may have spent a night with Rachel Berry perfecting 'Popular' from Wicked with props and everything but under no circumstances did he want to know about any of her bedroom habits.

"Woah, bro. Fair enough. Just... same rules apply. Ok?"

Kurt sighed. It was sweet but also wholly inappropriate. "As nice as it is that you're even thinking to do this, it's also entirely unecessary. Blaine and I are simply friends. He may be of the same sex and may be gay but that's it. Understood?"

Finn thought for a second then smiled. "So does this mean you're still making the banana bread?"

* * *

><p><em>I'm driving over in an hour. Do you need me to pick something up from the store for you? I'll see you soon if not. Blaine xx<br>_  
><strong>That really won't be necessary. Thank you though. I've locked Finn in the basement so you won't be suffering his insanity this afternoon. K xx<br>**  
><em>I can never tell if you're serious or not? If you are, I'm concerned for my safety. What could you do to me? I'm quite a small guy. If you're not, then why ever would you joke about such a thing? I'm sure Finn's a good guy. Free him, Kurt! Think of his poor mother, your poor step mother... He's only human. B xx<br>_  
><strong>First of all, you haven't met him. I'll ask you the same question later. Secondly, you're ridiculous. I think we're at that point in our friendship when I can say that with the utmost sincerity. K xxx<br>**  
><em>I've decided. I don't wish to mix with tyrants nor do I appreciate your tone or insults. I shall not be attending today. Faithfully, Blaine Anderson.<br>_  
><strong>Well, you won't be wanting to taste my homemade banana bread or the freshly blended tomato soup for later in the day I presume?<br>**  
><em>Haha. See you in an hour. Blaine xxx PS: we're at that point in our friendship, yes. PPS: I hate you. You're a tease.<br>_  
>Kurt giggled, clutching his phone a little too tightly. It seemed the two men in his life, so to speak, we're far too inclined to think with their stomachs.<p>

Something to remember for potential future use.

Kurt knew he'd prepared well. The task of making his room presentable wasn't a strenuous one as it was always in an almost perfect state of impeccable but he knew he had to look at it from an outsider's point of view - a guy's point of view.

Blaine wasn't Finn who couldn't tell a McIntosh print bed throw from an IKEA crochet wall hanging. Blaine clearly had an eye for the finer things in life and Kurt could only imagine how beautiful the Anderson household was. It was no question that they'd buy original pieces as opposed to that which resembles the original but is in fact a fake and retailing at half the price.

Hiding the only baby photograph on display in the house, Kurt surveyed the lounge. He'd worked hard on a budget to create something homely, something encapsulating comfort and a 'family' feel. Carole was a home bird and by default, Finn was too but now that they were a whole unit, their values and tastes were combined - everything had to suit four different and scarily stark personalities. Burt wore flannel, Carole worse stonewash, Finn wore polyester and Kurt knew he couldn't even compile a list of all the textures he possessed but the range could be summed up with 'silk to velvet'. They were a household of opposites but somehow it worked.

Kurt knew Blaine's house wouldn't be the same. He'd talked of feeling stilted; he'd mentioned his crazy need to just find a way to shake things up. Kurt couldn't count on one hand the amount of insane moments in the Hudson-Hummel household in a week - Finn's near death experience with the oven being the latest - so he hoped that Blaine would appreciate the lived in feel. After all, Kurt knew he used to keep their home pristine and clinical pre-wedding but now that didn't seem right. As much as he huffed and complained, Kurt knew he wouldn't change it. Dysfunction worked in their favor.

Time passed slowly, Kurt pottering around, plumping cushions and wiping down surfaces all whilst listening to his 'housework playlist' compiled of songs to rouse even the laziest of individuals and cheesily chosen songs such as the '_Happy Working Song_' from Enchanted. Dancing with a broom got the job done way quicker - of that Kurt was certain.

Kurt could feel his palms beginning to sweat. It didn't happen often as perspiration could be avoided at all costs and with the correct breathable material, but nerves were unavoidable.

The only other guy to set foot in his room had been Puck during one of his rare visits to see Finn. Their toxic relationship seemed to go overlooked when the new Call of Duty hit the shelves. Kurt had groaned and muttered something irritable about video games and low intelligence but he couldn't deny their ability to bring people together - even people who'd slept with the other's girlfriend, got her pregnant and then kissed the other's subsequent girlfriend whilst still calling her a 'hot little American Jewish Princess'. Obama was clearly missing a trick - it seemed world peace could be achieved by shooting rogue soldiers with an AK47 in simulated form.

Blaine was going to be the only guy to set foot in Kurt's bedroom with the exception of Finn and Puck. It was an enormous deal.

Glancing at his vanity, Kurt considered putting the pressed flowers away from sight. After all, Blaine had sent them and it could potentially be a little over the top to have them on display but, when all considered, Kurt knew Blaine had a cork board covered in miscellaneous things he'd sent by snail mail so it didn't seem so bad.

Maybe they'd show Blaine how much they'd meant to him.

It took twenty minutes to choose an outfit. Kurt tugged at the sweater, pulling it over his hips and shimmying into it to align the seams. It was a favourite, one with dark blue flecks on grey and long soft sleeves. Teamed with a pair of staple skinny jeans, he smiled into the mirror and let out a sigh.

Kurt knew he'd waited to have a boy over for the day for far too long, or to be specific, he'd wanted a boy to want to do anything, to just see him, accept him and flash a smile instead of a frown.

Blaine may have never been interested in anything beyond friendship but it wasn't even about that. Sure, Kurt knew that all Blaine had to do was nod and Kurt was sure he'd melt and say 'yes'. 'Yes' to anything.

As he straightened his dark brown bed throw - thick and furry for the colder months - a knock resounded from downstairs. Scrambling to reach the door, Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Finn's voice echoed up the stairs.

"Kurt! Kurt, Blaine... your, um, friend's here. Your friend who's a guy!"

It took around three steps and a perfectly executed leap to reach the stairs. Kurt knew his eyes were wild but Finn...

"That's very helpful. Thank you," Kurt forced sharply, his voice straining to remain civil as there was no doubt that Blaine had heard his fog horn of a shout. "I can take it from here, Finn, and remember-"

"Don't interrupt. Give you privacy. Equals nice Kurt?"

"Got it in one."

Smiling manically as Finn patted his back and bounded upstairs, Kurt took a slow breath, smoothed down his sweater and attempted the tame the rogue butterflies in his stomach.

* * *

><p>The house looked... <em>homely<em>.

Blaine could hardly breathe as he pulled up, keys turning in the ignition. He knew that to others it would appear sad or pathetic but he'd dreamed of lazy days spent with someone whether it be a best friend or more.

Wes, David, Nick and especially Jeff were all good to him. They were, for all intent and purposes, good friends but there wasn't a deep connection there at all. They were great guys, all with awesome qualities and they worked amazingly as a team - that, Blaine cherished - but aside from sport and music, they didn't share the same ideals, dreams and interests. They wouldn't be dragged to the mall to spend inordinate amounts of time in the changing rooms as Blaine knew he was utterly specific about clothing. They wouldn't watch late night re-runs of The Golden Girls. They were amazing but so very different. He was lucky - he knew that - but Blaine also knew he'd found something special in Kurt.

Something had been playing on his mind since Regionals. Being so close to Kurt, talking to him and looking at him in a way they hadn't been able to before, had made him think.

Kurt had a quality about him. There were no specific signs or pointers but it was so inherent in the way he acted and spoke that Blaine couldn't quite believe that others hadn't picked up on it - if they had and hadn't reacted to it then it was criminal. Kurt was loving. He was gentle and careful underneath but his passionate nature and strength was how he lived his life. He used that drive and spark to fight for what he believed in and who he believed in - including himself - but underneath, written in his eyes and no doubt across his heart was the most compassionate and moral person Blaine knew he'd ever had the pleasure to meet.

There was no doubt about it that Blaine knew Kurt would protect himself - and his heart - from anyone. It was clear that he would never open up freely to anyone without good reason but they'd both passed that boundary. Blaine wondered, as he shrugged on his cardigan, exactly how many other people Kurt had bared his soul to. It was no doubt a small number, reserved for people he trusted fiercely and for those he knew would stand strong for him as he would for them.

Blaine could see it; the shimmer in his eyes behind the wall he built around himself, that Kurt was no doubt one of the sweetest most loving people you'd ever meet but that selective and careful process of working people out and keeping the world at arm's length was never going to go away. Blaine got it. He'd never truly allowed anyone in - _not really_.

The closest he'd come was coming out to William and Lillian that afternoon and it hadn't been easy, nor had it been met with the force of love and acceptance he'd wished for. There'd been a hug and a '_we love you_' but they had been weak, offered only because that was what they thought Blaine wanted to hear.

An odd warmth spread through Blaine's chest as he climbed out of his car and into the cool wind. He wanted, so badly, to spend time with Kurt, to get to know him even better, to laugh with him, to have fun and just to be close to him. That, right there, was the thing that shocked him.

_Yes_, Kurt was funny, witty and enjoyable to write to and be around. _Yes_, he was good looking and in a way that was so out of the ordinary it was blinding. Kurt wasn't handsome, he wasn't hot, he wasn't cute... he was _so much more_. Blaine knew he wasn't unfortunate looking. His hair was a little on the wild side when untamed, his skin hadn't broken out too much in the past couple of years, his height was an issue and always had been and he wasn't blessed with a six pack but he was nice looking - he was willing to accept that. The problem lay in the acceptance that others would find him attractive; short of Kurt, nobody had before and what a shock it had been to read Kurt's words. He saw himself as normal, as quite plain and he'd tried so hard with his appearance for so many years that the realisation that someone actually found it special and something of note was incredible.

Kurt was different though. He didn't try to hide himself. He didn't cover himself and mask his personality because it blazed out the second you set eyes on him. The bright colours, clever layers and the specific way he held himself were all so monumental. It was who Kurt was and how he wanted the world to see him - his eyes betraying him of course - but Blaine knew he didn't need fashion or accessories to stand out because his beauty was so ethereal.

It shocked him, really. Blaine knew, as he made his way towards the door that he was so close to doing what he'd always dreamed of and feared at once - liking someone. He could - he was ready to regardless of lack of experience - but it was both terrifying and thrilling because never had that person in his dreams acted, looked or resembled Kurt at all. That said, the second that Kurt had walked away on Tuesday, the second Blaine had watched him disappear, there was no ignoring the feeling that grasped hold of him and had refused to let go ever since.

Kurt wasn't what he'd always wanted - he was way more than Blaine had ever allowed himself to hope for - he was exactly what he needed.

Blaine knocked lightly on the door, heart pounding in case Finn opened it. He'd heard so much about them and watched them from afar that the New Directions felt like minor celebrities.

As the door opened, Blaine took a deep breath.

Kurt smiled as Blaine appeared looking wrapped up tight in a thick red sweater with jet black buttons and the same jeans and boots from Tuesday. The wool looked so beautifully soft that Kurt only wanted to touch...

Textures. That's what it was. He liked textures, _that's all._

"Hi."

Blaine grinned, taking in Kurt's more casual wear - still with more style than most people held in their little finger.

"Hey."

"Come in," Kurt offered, gesturing to the lounge and closing the door gently behind Blaine. Immediately it felt odd. The same place that Kurt had read all of their letters and written back was where Blaine now stood looking a touch anxious, so warm and wearing a soft smile.

"Your house is beautiful."

Kurt smiled with only a touch of smugness. "I'll take most of the credit," he said, perching on the back of the couch, "but not all of it. That would be greedy. Carole put a lot into it. With my validation, of course."

Blaine laughed a little. "So, they're not here? Carole and your father? But Finn is? Locked in the basement still I presume?"

Almost snorting, Kurt shook his head. He felt bashful. "I let him out. Felt sorry for him. He can't help it if he's an idiot."

Blaine smiled slowly, watching as Kurt picked at the bottom of his sleeve. It seemed an uncharacteristic move so he acted quick to battle through the awkwardness. "Thank you for inviting me today. I know this is weird, isn't it?"

"You in my house?" Kurt asked. Blaine nodded with a half smile. "Yes. Weird is one word for it."

"I think my brain would explode if you were to come to my house. The traditions and tidiness and order of it all once you stepped over the threshold would just cause it to self combust."

Kurt frowned slightly. "Am I that scary?"

Instantly, Blaine felt himself flush cold. "No. Kurt. No that's not what I meant at all. It's just my house doesn't often get a breath of fresh air, someone vibrant and full of life. It tends to suck that out of people. You on the other hand," he offered a smile as he ducked his head, "would never let it. You're way too strong for that."

Kurt didn't speak for a moment. He just looked, eyes lingering on Blaine's frantic eyes. When Blaine had said he wasn't so good at some areas of social interaction, he was right but Kurt knew he'd be perfect if he only stopped caring what people thought and let himself go. "Oh I see. I bet your home is exquisitely decorated."

Blaine took a seat on the sofa, careful to sit near the edge. Kurt sat in his father's chair and crossed his legs. "It's down to my mom. She's elegant and has amazing taste but moving a vase a centimeter out of place is a punishable offence in my house."

Smiling, Kurt stood up, heart beating hard, and stepped to sit by Blaine's side on the couch. Sinking down, Blaine swallowed a gasp and kept cool. "I can hang up your sweater if you're too warm. Finn always has the house like a furnace when it's cold out."

Blaine slid his arms free and passed it to Kurt with a smile. "It's like wearing a teddy bear."

Kurt tried not to let himself imagine what it would be like to snuggle up to Blaine as he wore it, to nuzzle his cheek into the silky wool and hold onto it, hold onto Blaine.

"Um," he said suddenly, turning from the coat rack, "would you like something to drink?"

Standing, Blaine felt himself relax slightly. It was going to be fine. They were a little too tentative towards one another again, each holding residual nerves, but he had faith that they'd hit that point again where they could keep eye contact, sit a little closer and dare to flirt a little... if Kurt even saw it like that.

"That would be nice."

Following Kurt into the kitchen, Blaine took in the piles of paper scribbled with notes and times which looked medical and official, a dark blue overall tucked over one of the kitchen chairs slightly smudged with dried grease and the tastefully placed photos on the fridge.

Laughing, he broke the silence as Kurt flicked on the kettle. "Is this you?"

As the water began to bubble, Kurt felt his skin turn to ice. He knew he'd overlook something during his pre-Blaine preparations.

"Yes."

Blaine felt giddy. "Is that a bow tie?" he asked, looking sideways to where Kurt stood, cheeks flushing on his ever defiant face.

"Insult the genius of the bow tie and you insult me, Blaine."

"I was actually," Blaine teased, his voice emphasising every word, "going to say you looked adorable. You can't be that old here. Is this your father?"

Kurt stopped his preparations and stood by Blaine, the mere proximity causing his breathing to stutter. "You've probably forgotten but do you remember the story I told you-"

"About the tea party?"

Kurt smiled languidly, daring to look into Blaine's eyes. He nodded. "That's it. Well this was taken on the same day. My mom took the picture. She taught me to knot a bow tie."

Blaine wanted to reach out. He hadn't known loss but the very thought of the one person you cherished being cruelly taken away was truly heart breaking. Kurt hadn't only suffered that but much more than he deserved and Blaine wondered in that moment how he'd coped so well, how he'd gotten through it and finally, as he watched Kurt's eyes turn wistful then blank, how many people had offered him a hug or a shoulder to cry on.

As if tied by a thread, Blaine felt himself step closer to Kurt's side, eyes following every movement he made.

Kurt reached into the cupboard above the kettle and took out a small cream tin covered in the smallest of flowers. He could feel Blaine standing closer but it was nice, comforting even. He'd usually step back to keep that necessary distance but with Blaine he wanted to fight that urge. _Badly_.

"Can you talk me through it?" Blaine asked quietly, seeming to startle Kurt who looked down a little through his eyelashes.

"Through what?"

Blaine tapped the mug lightly. "The stuff your mom taught you."

Kurt couldn't breathe for a second caught between the overload of thinking about her and how much he had since Blaine and the tone of voice Blaine had used - careful but confident as if he was genuinely interested. The New Directions were coffee drinkers - Kurt liked tea. He'd never shared it with anyone, especially not a boy.

"If you'd like," Kurt said quietly, "but you'll have to do exactly as I say because it's a delicate process and not for amateurs." With a smirk, Blaine looked at Kurt accusingly. "Sorry but it's true."

"What do I do first?"

Kurt took a breath and stepped back reluctant to relinquish control. It felt amazing to have someone paying him so much attention, wanting to be with him and sharing stupid rituals.

Kurt talked him through it step by step and Blaine followed, only slipping up on the quantity of tea leaves but Kurt soon laughed - shocking himself at his own newfound patience - and got Blaine back on track.

As the tea diffused in both cups, Blaine rocked on the balls of his feet. "That was fun. I had no idea that there were so many steps. It smells amazing too."

Kurt grinned, enjoying the wash of warmth on his skin. "It's an art. That's, um, that's what she always said. So..."

"Kurt?"

Blaine knew he was going to push it. Blaine didn't have any intention of hurting him or upsetting him but there was a distinct feeling of gratitude from Kurt; it felt like gratitude for listening or something like that.

"Mmm hmm?"

Looking into Blaine's eyes was something Kurt didn't like to do a lot, not because he didn't want to - god no - but because they were intense and too difficult to look away from. He let himself for a moment.

"The tea set you talked about? The one that you used with your mom? The one you threw the world's best tea parties with? Do you maybe want to use it?"

"You can't be serious," Kurt breathed, half in awe and half amused.

"I'm nothing if not sincere."

Blaine smiled. Kurt wasn't blinking.

"You want me to throw a tea party? What are you? Five years old?"

Nodding, Blaine bounced up and down a little, smirking. "Look, Kurt," he tried, his brain acting independent, "that letter was one of my favourites. I loved hearing about your story. As you were teaching me, I remembered what you'd said about the tea set being stored away. Please tell me if I'm overstepping. I know it's not my place to talk about your mom or your memories, I just wondered how many times you'd been able to do something like throw a random tea party, how many people have asked you..."

Kurt swallowed, his eyes unmoving. The answer was nobody. Nobody had suggested playing tea parties because they were teenagers and usually the foray into relationship drama, the agony of adolescence and painful insecurities were challenging enough without being ridiculed for hosting a children's make believe event. Kurt wanted to laugh because Blaine clearly couldn't be real. He was cute, really. He had oodles of confidence and although he was as insecure as the next guy, he had an air about him so solid and permanent once he'd entered your life that Kurt wasn't sure if he could ever deal with a Blaine-shaped hole in his.

"If we do this," Kurt said eventually, Blaine pursing his lips in a half smug smile, "we do it properly and you act the dutiful guest because as mortifying as this could potentially be, I am always the host."

Noticing the iridescence in Kurt's eyes, the way they shone with an odd sort of incredulity, Blaine didn't even try to hinder an enormous smile. "As you wish. It's your home."

"Stay here," Kurt urged. He reached out without thinking and held Blaine in place for a moment. "Don't move and, um close your eyes. Keep them closed. Blaine, you're peeking."

The sound of Blaine's giggle - _yes, an actual giggle_ - as he re-covered his eyes was enough to send Kurt's tummy fluttering. Flitting around the kitchen, he collected a couple of muffins he'd baked with his father a couple of days before during one of their weekly bonding sessions and other necessary elements before returning to stand in front of Blaine. Their tea was going to go cold if he didn't act fast.

He could feel Kurt, sense his presence as he fell back into place. It was amazing. Blaine let his shoulders relax, muscles seemingly mere seconds behind as he melted into the moment. To others it would have looked mediocre, ludicrous, pathetic or childish but Blaine, as his eyes remained closed, tried to remember the playfulness in his childhood and failed. There'd been 'educational endeavours' as his mother had termed them and practical sessions like mowing the lawn and helping with cleaning the car but never silliness, never just ridiculous things that were just for kids.

He didn't need all of that, if he was honest. He'd managed ok but the chance to get a bit stupid for a while was too tempting to pass up, especially when it was with Kurt.

"I'm going into the living room but just stay here and I'll be right back. You can open your eyes if you'd like."

Blaine obeyed.

As Kurt watched Blaine's eyelashes flutter open, his heart skipped.

"Hello again."

"Hello," Kurt said simply. He knew his voice was slight, way quieter than usual but it was Blaine's fault - Blaine's stupid eyelashes. "Stay here."

It didn't take long for Kurt to return, his head appearing around the door with a coy but righteous smile. "You may come in now," he said, his tone couched in superiority but Blaine could see the spark in his eyes and the soft curve of his lips. It was like reading a book.

As they entered the living room, Blaine couldn't quite believe his eyes. A delicate lace table cloth adorned the coffee table with a pale blue curved porcelain vase holding a single daffodil (there was a bunch at the entrance hall, Blaine had noticed) standing in the center of the most beautiful spread Blaine was sure he'd ever seen - it was the kind of things that urban fairytales were made of.

Blaine was used to setting the Anderson's table with cut glass and crystal stem, thick and unruly napkins amongst the most banal china plates he'd ever come across. This porcelain was paper thin and rimmed with a slight gold trim; tiny blue flowers were dotted in pattern, the only interruption being a dainty gold trimmed handle curved with perfection. There was a tea cup and saucer each, a small and carved tea spoon with a blue porcelain handle laid vertically by a tea plate with a large, what appeared to be, white chocolate muffin. In the center, along from the vase, was a decorative cornflower blue ornate plate littered with fancy biscuits. The final addition was a matching tea pot, milk jug and sugar bowl with the tiniest spoon fit for a pixie.

It was _so pretty_.

Kurt stood to the side, his hand smoothing down the thighs of his jeans and head cocked to the side. It took Blaine a few moments to remember his name. Kurt was just...

"This is so amazing."

Smiling hugely and bigger than Blaine had seen it yet, Kurt sat on one of the midnight blue cushions that had been placed on the floor. "Sit."

As Blaine sat down, legs crossing, Kurt took a breath as if to speak but instead began the process of pouring their already made tea into the correct cups and adding sugar.

"Is this white choco-"

"Thank you for doing this."

Blaine glanced up and into Kurt's eyes. They were no longer guarded, just for a few moments, and instead were so full of emotion that Blaine could hardly stand it.

"You're welcome." He smiled, hoping Kurt would understand the sincerity.

"Ok. Tea!" Kurt sang. He knew he was deflecting because in truth, all he wanted to do was cross the gap between them and squish Blaine till he could barely breathe. It didn't matter that it was only their second time sitting face to face because Blaine understood him somehow. They were very different in many ways but in the ways that counted, they seemed to slip into some mutually supportive partnership regardless of the distance or situation. It was mind blowing.

Thirty minutes later and Kurt was ready to just beg Blaine to never leave. "I adore this movie. If you're gay... In fact, if you're human you simply must know this movie and appreciate its genius," Kurt cooed, leaning back into the couch as they sat on the floor either side of the coffee table.

"Gene Kelly is my hero."

"You, Blaine Anderson, have taste and believe me, I never admit that easily."

Smiling, Blaine reached as if to clink his tea cup to Kurt's. Kurt obeyed with a tiny grin.

"Here's to drinking the best tea ever made and one of the most incredible movie musicals to grace the silver screen."

"Agreed," Kurt sighed, "and, um, you're more than welcome to be my guest again. You're so very polite. We like that."

Blaine didn't look away. He wanted to come back and actually if he was honest with himself, he simply didn't want to leave. Kurt's use of the Royal 'we' only made him a hundred times more adorable.

"Thank you. With a host like you, I'm honored."

They sat in silence for most of the movie except for sporadic words of appreciation or Kurt's fashion commentary. As it was coming to a close, Blaine heard footsteps from the staircase.

"Oh, um, Kurt?"

As Kurt turned with a face of feigned thunder, Blaine stifled a laugh. Having the opportunity to witness Kurt with Finn was something he'd hoped for as their relationship seemed to have the most insane dynamic.

"Yes, Finn?"

Blaine watched as Finn, so so tall, surveyed the lounge and frowned. "Did I miss some sort of party?"

"Yes, a party. A tea party to be precise and no you weren't invited. Anymore questions?"

Finn resembled a startled deer. "Banana bread's still on, right? I only came down for some lemonade. We're having a New Directions online Halo tournament. Mike's wired in over at Artie's and Puck's at his uncle's house. Sam's the one who arranged it. Awesome or what?"

"Very awesome," Kurt chimed sarcastically but his smile changed from tight to genuine, "tell them I said hi?"

"I will," Finn beamed then turned to Blaine. "Oh sorry, dude, didn't see you there. Nice to meet you. You're Blaine, right?"

Turning to Kurt, he offered Blaine a smile that simply said 'I told you so'.

"That's me. Nice to meet you, Finn. I've heard so much about you."

"Awesome." He grinned at Kurt like a puppy with a bone.

"You're welcome to join us," Blaine added, prompting a look of shooting daggers from Kurt.

Finn's eyes shot open flickering from Kurt to Blaine and back to Kurt again. "No thanks, bro. Maybe another time. Got some aliens to kill and Puck's my wingman so if I don't respawn in like five minutes he might just kill me. Literally."

Blaine wanted to say something but no words came. Instead, he lightly laughed and offered a nod. "Oh well, it was nice to meet you anyway."

Beaming once more, Finn began scaling the stairs. "Oh and erm, you guys were awesome at Regionals. Sorry about the not winning and stuff, but you were great. Kurt couldn't take his eyes off you, he was just staring at you... I mean, you guys, the whole group as a team, you know?"

It was as if Kurt had claws. He sat up like a bolt of lightning and glared at Finn, his eyes bold and sharp as needles. "Thank you for that, Finn. Weren't you going upstairs?"

Blaine turned away, as if to pretend he wasn't entirely amused and a little flattered by what had been said, but kept Finn in his peripheral vision. Before disappearing upstairs, Finn mouthed 'sorry' to Kurt and shrugged his apology.

It was all so endearing, the bickering between them. They were clearly chalk and cheese but something went unspoken making them bond even though they were the most unlikely siblings. It seemed that Finn's 'idiocy' - as Kurt so kindly put it - was nothing short of charming.

"I'm sorry about him," Kurt said finally, turning to face forwards once more and hiding his embarrassment well. Blaine let out a short, breathy laugh.

"He's pretty much exactly how I imagined him. You two are like a comedy duo."

"He's the butt of everyone's jokes, you mean," Kurt teased, glancing sideways.

Blaine caught his eyes and held the gaze. "So you liked our performance?"

"Shut up," Kurt spat, his eyes glittering, "He doesn't know what he's talking about. He can kiss goodbye to any baked goods now."

"So you didn't like it?" Blaine knew he was crossing a line but they were more than capable of going there.

"Ok," Kurt snapped playfully, turning on the spot to face Blaine, "you were amazing. Really amazing. Your voice is incredible, the harmonies were breathtaking even if your dancing left a little to be desired. Yes, I couldn't stop watching you... as a team... you are my, um, well you're one of my good friends and I was being supportive. Plus, the last time I watched you, The Warblers, perform, I didn't know you and so this time it was different." He took a deep and steadying breath. "Happy now?"

Blaine couldn't help but bite his lip to stop from grinning ridiculously. "Yes actually and if you must know, Jeff tried to talk to me six times while you guys were performing and I didn't hear a thing. Must have been because you are my, um, well you're one of my good friends." He cocked his head to the side watching Kurt's eyes narrow.

"You're mocking me."

"No," Blaine urged with a clever smirk, "I'm teasing, there's a distinct difference."

"So, you think you're so clever. You with your legion of preppy boys all side stepping to the beat in those less than attractive blazers like, well, like Blaine and the Pips or something."

Blaine was seconds away from dissolving into giggles or flinching from Kurt's words.

"I feel like I really am your friend now. You're unleashing your snark on me."

Kurt tried to order his brain but it wouldn't obey at all. Finn had to go and embarrass him so the only way out to protect his very precious modesty was to deny it and make it a joke. It was obvious that Blaine wasn't too hurt but it was the truth. They were exceptional but were still so much of a cliche.

"I only reserve it for special people," Kurt added softly, in an attempt to redeem himself. Blaine was lovely. He didn't mean anything by his mild mannered teasing and, if Kurt was honest with himself, he liked it - _a lot_.

Blaine could feel his heart beat in his fingertips. It wasn't the sweetest of moments but it was real and raw, especially the flickering of emotions in Kurt's eyes and the way he looked nothing short of highly strung. Blaine just wanted to fall into sync with him, bite back and for Kurt to know it meant nothing, only that they were easy with one another and comfortable with speaking their mind. The honesty was and had always been their thing, after all.

"It still stands, you know?" Blaine said softly, shuffling a little closer and crossing his legs to face Kurt. He placed his hands gently him his lap.

"What does?"

"The fact you're the best friend I've got."

Neither spoke for a moment, Kurt staring resolutely at his knotted fingers.

"I just insulted you." Kurt could feel his hands shaking.

"Did you mean it?"

"Yes and no."

Biting his lip, Blaine leaned forward. "Which bit?"

"The lame dancing." Kurt tried not to laugh. He could feel the tremble in his stomach, the tell tale sign he was going to crumble into nervous hysterics.

"I'll give you that."

Blaine seemed so cool and collected, his cheeks tinged pink and lips quirked a little. "You're meant to insult me back? It's the way it works. Santana calls me ladyfingers, I call her the devil incarnate."

Blaine chuckled. Kurt truly was one of the most fascinating people he'd ever met. "What am I supposed to say? I don't have any insults in me. You're crazy if you think I'm just going to call you names because you didn't like our side step, which, by the way is Wes' idea and a historic Warbler staple move. I'm more of a 'do what feels good' kind of performer."

"Time to rethink history," Kurt quipped, ducking his head. Being under Blaine's gaze felt intense and as if he could decode every thought and unlock every desire.

"Can I see where you used to write to me?"

Kurt blinked a couple of times and straightened up. "So, you're not mad at me?"

"Kurt, you hosted a tea party for me."

"But I said those things..."

"Ok," Blaine sighed, smiling, "you were embarrassed so you said stuff. How about I embarrass myself and we call it quits?"

The quiet in the lounge felt deafening as Blaine tilted his head questioningly, waiting for Kurt to answer. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe. Just clueless and trying to stop you feeling like you need to be convinced that I'm not being honest with you. I never want to screw this up."

"Blaine," Kurt sighed out, his eyes heavy and hands coming to skim his face, "I'm sorry for what I said. You are all outstanding. Even Rachel Berry was worried when the results were being announced."

It felt strangely incredible to be talking so frankly but something inside Kurt panicked. Maybe he was scared. Blaine Anderson had no intention of going anywhere or changing anything and, unlike a lot of the people in his life, appeared to be a permanent fixture. It felt as if someone had placed an enormous sparkly present in his lap - a Vivienne Westwood orb print shirt or the new Marc Jacobs slacks - but the fear came with wondering what came next. He could ruin them or lose them or they might not live up to expectation ...

Blaine wasn't perfect but he was _so very nice..._

"Thank you for saying that. It's ok, you know, to be honest with me. I get the solos because the council decide that way. I sometimes wish Nick would rock it up a bit as he sounds like Jagger and David has so much soul it blows me away. I guess, they want me out front so I go with it. I love it, I can't deny that, but I'm not so jaded to think I deserve every single one. Maybe they should mix it up every now and then. Duets... Different styles..."

Kurt let out a sigh, leaning his head against the sofa. "I don't even know why I said it. Finn made me feel like a pathetic love sick puppy, staring at you and I'm not."

Blaine choked on a laugh. "Pity."

"Oh my god," Kurt gasped, sucking in a breath, "you did not just say that!"

"Joking," Blaine giggled, mimicking Kurt's position and looking into his eyes, "Hey I embarrass myself on a daily basis so don't worry about it."

Kurt wanted to just let things out. Random things. He wanted to cry and talk about his mom, wanted to cling to Blaine and explain how scary it was to nearly lose a last remaining parent, wanted Blaine to pull him close as he explained how difficult it was to go through every day at school wondering if you'd be slushied or worse, beaten up. It was as if Blaine had some magical hold on him. He didn't want to do those things with Mercedes or Finn or Rachel: he didn't even want to do them with his dad but something in Blaine's eyes spoke of a multitude of troubles too. He was harbouring some pretty awful memories and emotions, things which Kurt was sure he would like to get out too. It felt safe with Blaine. He was unjudged and regardless of Blaine's self confessed weaknesses, Kurt felt as if he had someone strong in his life, someone who wasn't always going to hit the right note but who was always going to try.

Blaine didn't need to be in his lounge. _He wanted to be._

"Ok, you said you wanted to see my room?"

On the verge of blushing - something he didn't often do - Blaine pressed his lips together and smiled, nodding as his eyes followed Kurt to a standing position. Blaine stood up too.

"In the most innocent sense."

Shaking his head, Kurt led the way. "Up here, Romeo."

They spent the next half hour sitting on either side of the room, Blaine asking questions and Kurt answering them, his eyes wide with a fond sort of shock. Blaine was interested or just very polite and an expert at pretending.

"Oh wow, you kept them," Blaine cooed, voice laced in wonder as he stared at Kurt's vanity. "I thought you'd have thrown them away by now."

Ducking his head, Kurt smiled sweetly. "Yes, well, you went to so much trouble. Anyone who picks a flower whie drunk and on the way to the mailbox deserves for it to be kept."

"Oh don't remind me," Blaine groaned. He'd tried to omit that particular nightmare from his mind. "If I didn't apologise enough for that night, I'm so sorry. That letter must have been illegible."

Laughing, Kurt dug around in his drawer and pulled out a pretty paper file tied together with ribbons and adorned with large metal press on letters spelling 'correspondence'.

"I keep everything in here," Kurt said simply, passing it to Blaine.

"Kurt, this is so amazing."

"I sew, I knit, I make clothes, I decorate, I bake. I'm a regular Betty Crocker only way more fabulous."

After an hour or so, Blaine glanced at his watch. Kurt was scrolling through his iTunes and compiling a CD for Blaine to take home. It was fast approaching his curfew and he knew he had to leave but his brain refused to accept it.

As Kurt fell engrossed in his organisation, Blaine squirmed in the chair at one side of the room. They'd talked about anything and everything for hours but hadn't so much as moved a muscle. Blaine wanted to. The throw on Kurt's bed looked like heaven. All he wanted to do was crawl under it and sink his head into the expanse of pillows and sleep or, if Kurt wanted, curl up and talk for hours. He'd seen it in movies but he wanted it for himself, that exquisitely lazy afternoon filled with muffled laughter and whispering.

"Blaine? It's all done," Kurt called from where he sat with a gloriously wide smile. Blaine noted how comfortable he looked in his own surroundings.

"I have to go." Blaine allowed himself, if only for a moment, to feel a little pleasure at the fact that Kurt's face dropped.

"Oh. Ok. Well, take your CD and I'll get your sweater."

Following Kurt downstairs felt sad. Their day had cemented a lot about their friendship, how they related to one another and the dymanic they held.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon."

Kurt looked smaller all of a sudden. His hands rested low on his hips and as he fought a smile. There was a distinct sense of vulnerability that Blaine couldn't quite believe. He'd never seen that in Kurt, never sensed it quite so vehemently. The softness of it, the shudder of his fingertips and the way that his eyes couldn't quite rest, they flittered up and down as if he wanted to speak but just didn't know what to say.

"It was nice having you here," Kurt muttered quietly, his hip bumping the front door to keep it open.

Blaine tugged his sweater on and turned in silence as he stepped outside into the grey afternoon.

"Kurt, can I ask you something?" It was as if he'd swallowed a beach ball. His throat felt thick and, as if it were a knee jerk reaction, his hands slid into his pockets.

"Hmm hmm."

"Am I different to how you expected me to be?"

Kurt pondered for a moment but eventually smiled fondly. "Yes, but not in a bad way. I think it's because I can see you when you say things and look at you instead of imagining."

"Can I be honest for a moment?" Knowing he could make such a mess of a very important afternoon, Blaine continued but pushed his hands a little deeper in his pockets. Kurt nodded, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his face. "You are fascinating to me. I mean, I was always so interested in what you had to say in your letters and they always made me laugh. When they didn't, they made me sad and moved me more than I expected. I feel as if sometimes I can work you out because your emotions are so close to the surface but then seconds later you're a mystery to me. It's like you're protecting yourself from me. I just want you to know that you don't have to. I'd never screw this up. I really really care about you and I want you to know that."

Kurt's eyes glazed as he stood up straight, his hands unmoving. He barely breathed. Kurt could see the quirks at Blaine's cheeks, the way he bundled his hands away and shrugged his shoulders all the while trying to retain some sort of cool. If he could be so honest, Kurt sucked in air and knew he could try too.

"You're so hard to read. When you talk to me and look at me, I understand and I can, um, well your eyes give you away but when you're not spelling it out for me then it's tougher. You try hard and I guess I can see what you meant in your letters. I know you have spent a lot of time denying things to yourself and holding your tongue but I'd never do that with you. I don't believe in that. I look up to you though. I look up to you because you're so strong and confident but I can also see how hurt you've been and we're not all that dissimilar with our defence mechanisms. I just think we both need to tell each other the truth always."

"I'd like that," Blaine began, his lips slower and eyes prickling.

"So, we're good?" Kurt asked softly. He took a step forward instinctively. Wanting to be closer to Blaine had always been a natural impulse ever since they'd met but this was different. He felt drawn so hard, so fast and in a fierce way as if he wanted to protect him, fight for him and never let anything hurt him even though no threats presented themselves.

"I just want an excuse to spend more time with you."

Kurt felt his heart stop. The tingling feeling swirling deep inside ached low and desperate as if it had hold and wasn't letting go. He'd never felt that before.

Blaine let out a shuddering breath, scrubbing his hand over his eyes. "Wow, what a day." He tried to smile but his nerves didn't allow his muscles to respond.

Laughing breathlessly to break the tension, Kurt agreed with a gentle 'yes'.

"I better go. Should I text you? Or-"

"Rent's on at the Revival next weekend. I can get tickets?"

As if releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Blaine let his shoulders relax, a grin creeping across his face. "It's a date."

He knew he could correct himself but he didn't.

Blaine knew he had to walk away - as much as it took every ounce of will power to do it - or else he'd say something stupid; he fancied being dramatic and cheesy so having the last word was important.

Kurt didn't seem to mind.

As Blaine walked backwards down towards his car, Kurt watched every movement he made and knew he was clutching the door handle so tight his knuckles were white. He wanted to run down the driveway - regardless of the fact he was wearing cashmere socks - and drag Blaine back. That spark, the tension, the excitement of having Blaine near was so shockingly complimented by his warmth and the way he gravitated towards Kurt that he left a gaping hole in the room when he left it. Kurt groaned, waving one last time.

He was done for and if Blaine's blissed out smile was any indication, he had intended to call it a date. It seemed that Blaine felt just as contented and Kurt, for the first time in years - in his life - allowed himself to hope.

* * *

><p><strong>~tbc<strong>

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><p><strong>JUST TO CLEAR UP: In the previous Chapter I wrote 'opposite sex' instead of 'same sex'. Someone pointed it out immediately over at LJ and I could change it there but not here - I know it was a mistake (thank you to those who pointed it out). Hope it didn't detract from the story - where was my brain?<strong>

**I'll be posting Chapter 10 tomorrow and then there'll be another little break due to the fact that life will get a little hectic for a week but I promise the final two Chapters as soon as possible plus a two part Epilogue a bit after that! **

**Thank you for your patience with Chapters - they take a while to write, especially as they are all so long and I want to make them as best as I possibly can so that's why I can't update every day/every other. Life is so busy and I wanted to mention that so people know why there are some little delays!**

**Thank you so much for all of your cuddleworthy reviews. I have a feeling you'll all really like the next Chapter ;)**


	14. Night Alone

**Author's Notes**

_**Well, I know SO MANY of you have been waiting for this Chapter so I truly hope it doesn't disappoint ;) There's still canon in here (STILL! - see if you can spot the references as there are quite a few!) and I obviously had to get a BIOTA-style disagreement and an Original Song-esque Kurt bitch moment in there too before THIS... and plus, Kurt had to get a little more confident... just like his little 'Why did you ask me to duet with you' smile!**_

_**You'll also notice that I'm incapable of NOT writing their non-face-to-face interactions too. They're too tempting and I can make Kurt as sarcastic as I like!  
><strong>_

**Thank you AGAIN for all of your truly gorgeous comments and reviews on LJ, ffnet and my tumblr. They're all so appreciated and some of them - are you trying to make me cry? I adore writing this story - so much. I try so hard to allow for their mutual flaws and issues as well as appreciating their amazing parts, plus they THINK so much that I just can't resist writing their thoughts. Thank you for all of your comments about characterisation and their chemistry - THAT is what I want so I'm bowled over by the fact it worked! Also - for those who like my Finn... you have no idea how much I love writing Furt/Hummelberry so cuddles for you.**

**Thank you, as always, to my lovely beta Kerry/ccmskatechick for sorting out my silly mistakes and keeping me more American than painfully British. I SWEAR I cannot make myself write 'centimeter' instead of 'centimetre'. It just feels wrong - ha!**

**Please enjoy and for those recc-ing this and for those who have read this story from the beginning - I hope the pay off was worth it ;)**

**PLEASE NOTE: Blaine's final text from the first bunch has an emoticon heart in it - but ffnet hates those so please just IMAGINE IT'S THERE!**_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>I can't wait for tonight. Do you want to grab food before the show? My Grandmother used to take me to this amazing Greek restaurant close by. Blaine xx<br>_  
><strong>Do you think a velvet jacket and wingtips are too much for the theatre? The restaurant sounds amazing - I've never eaten Greek before. xxx<br>**  
><em>I covet your wingtips. They'll look great. Perfect, it's a plan! B :) xx<br>_  
><strong>You bought coffee so I'm paying for food. Just a heads up. Kurt xxx<br>**  
><em>No way. Half each or I'll be awkward and argue all night. :) :) :) B xxxxxxxx<br>_  
><strong>You're so hilarious. Ok. But I'm bringing some dried mango and pumpkin seeds as theatre snacks. Deal? Kurt xx PS: the smileys don't make you cute.<br>**  
><em>Wow, so rock and roll... Actually that sounds really good. Deal. ;) that make me cute? It's better in real life... ;) xxx<br>_  
><strong>Whatever. See you in an hour. Kurt xx<br>**  
><em>Ok. I'll wait outside to save you the Spanish inquisition from your dad and Carole? B xx<br>_  
><strong>Good thinking xxxxx<br>**  
><em>See you then! I'm excited 3<em>

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for tonight... and for lending me a tissue. I had such a nice time. B xx<br>_  
><strong>A tissue? Don't you mean a pack of tissues? Big baby. Kurt xx<br>**  
><em>Oh like you didn't cry! I can't help it if I've never seen Rent before. I didn't know Angel died. I think it broke my heart. B xxx<br>_  
><strong>Shut up. It was just the lights reflecting in my eyes. Kurt xx<br>**  
><strong>Oh and thank you. For the meal, for pretending to eat my dried mango even though you hated it and for buying me a programme. Kurt xxx<br>**  
><em>You're welcome. I'll text you this week? B xxxx<br>_  
><strong>You can text me whenever you know? You don't need to ask me. x<br>**  
><em>Ok. It's just we've never really done that before. We really have used every possible mode of communication haven't we? B xx<br>_  
><strong>We're cosmopolitan, Blaine! Let's just make a rule - if you want to text, you text. Kurt xx<br>**  
><em>Agreed. Sleep well. I had the best night. B xxxxxxx<em>

* * *

><p><em>At Jeff's party. Some college guy called Jeremiah may have hit on me. :S B xxx<br>_  
><strong>Oh. Is he nice?<br>**  
><em>I guess so. He's a junior manager at GAP. He said he could get me 50% discount. He's kind of cute if you're into that thing. B xxxx<br>_  
><strong>Are you?<br>**  
><em>I don't think I have a thing! B xxx<br>_  
><strong>GAP... Really, Blaine?<br>**  
><em>Snob :P<br>_  
><strong>At least I have standards.<br>**  
><em>Woah. What's up? Have I said something wrong?<br>_  
><strong>No. Go have fun. He seems nice.<br>**  
><em>I miss you. B xxx<em>

* * *

><p><em>Are you busy? B<br>_  
><strong>In Glee Club. Britt and Santana are singing. Quite pretty actually. Are you ok? xx<br>**  
><em>Dad. Wants me to go away on a business trip with him. Lots of shouting.<br>_  
><strong>Oh Blaine. What did he say?<br>**  
><em>I am wasting my intelligence and fine education. That he wants the best for me. I asked why the best couldn't be what I want. He said I wasn't being logical. I'm apparently a dreamer. He said I was going to disappoint him and the family as it's expected I follow in his footsteps. He just wants to model me how he wants.<br>_  
><strong>When is this trip? Kurt xxx<br>**  
><em>This weekend. Mom's going too as it's a retreat. I'm not going. I can't.<br>_  
><strong>Stay with me.<br>**  
><em>Kurt, I can't do that.<br>_  
><strong>I'll stay with you then.<br>**  
><em>I don't think your dad would be too thrilled with that. He might kill me.<br>_  
><strong>Ok, I'll come over then. For the daytime. I haven't seen you for two weeks anyway.<br>**  
><em>I don't want you to waste your weekend, Kurt.<br>_  
><strong>Why would spending it with you be a waste?<br>**  
><em>Are you really sure?<br>_  
><strong>I'm not doing it out of pity or anything, Blaine. I know how it feels to be upset and feel as if nobody gives a damn. They do. Plus, I want to see your house. I'm nosey!<br>**  
><em>Fine ... :) thank you xxxx<br>_  
><strong>Yes, well, maybe we can watch The Golden Girls together this time? Kurt xx<br>**  
><em>You remembered that? B xx<br>_  
><strong>You'd be surprised what I remember, Blaine.<br>**  
><em>:) anything exciting happening in Glee Club? I love your stories.<br>_  
><strong>Did I tell you about Artie and Britt? I was in Home Ec yesterday and Artie wheeled in and asked Britt to junior prom! I mean, we were only making cupcakes so it wasn't as if it spoiled a very exciting lesson. He sang 'Isn't she lovely'. She turned him down... He looked ready to cry. Poor guy sings a slightly inappropriate love song and has his heart whipped like the cake batter. I thought it was all exceptionally lovely - prom proposals make me a little weepy. xx<br>**  
><em>Poor Artie. Is he ok? Not the most fitting song choice though...<br>_  
><strong>He seems crushed. They broke up so my guess is that he's spending prom crying into one of his delightful sweaters...<br>**  
><em>You didn't tell me about Junior Prom. B xx<br>_  
><strong>Not much to tell. It's quite a way away. Quinn is flouncing around the halls like she's got Prom Queen in the bag. I personally think Tina and Mike deserve the crowns - they're sickeningly cute but so very committed. They'd be perfect. Puck and Lauren are going for the underdog vote. xxx<br>**  
><em>What about Rachel and Finn? Aren't they running? I'd have thought Rachel would be fiercely campaigning.<br>_  
><strong>Oh no. The girl's superficial in many respects but Prom isn't a dream for her, not like Quinn. She dreams of New York and Broadway - dreams a little bigger. I think Finn's just pleased he dodged a bullet. He'd have made a dutiful King though!<br>**  
><em>I see :) what about you?<br>_  
><strong>As much as much of McKinley would no doubt love to see me crowned Prom Queen, I'm not going.<br>**  
><em>I'm going to take a wild guess at the fact you planned an outfit regardless... B xx<br>_  
><strong>I may have...<br>**  
><em>You can tell me about it on Saturday. B xx<br>_  
><strong>I'll bring my sketchbook! Ok, Mr Schue just started on a lecture... I better pretend to listen. Kurt xxxx PS: hope you are ok.<br>**  
><em>I'm fine. Thank you. You always cheer me up :) you and your stories never fail to make me smile. B xx<br>_  
><strong>I could write a novel, Blaine. I've got plenty where they came from! Did I ever tell you about the time we spent the day in wheelchairs to support Artie and baked cupcakes to raise money for the bus to Sectionals? They went down surprisingly well until it transpired that Puck laced them with marijuana bought from the school's ex Glee Club teacher - Sandy was sacked for inappropriate touching of a male tenor... and clearly turned to supplying illegal drugs to minors. Classy.<strong>

_Hahahahahahaha. I don't know where to begin...  
><em>  
><strong>Don't try, Blaine.<br>**  
><em>I don't want to keep you from Glee Club. Thank you for ... just texting back. B xx<br>_  
><strong>Anytime. See you Saturday xxx<strong>

* * *

><p>The house was painfully quiet.<p>

Blaine grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard and padded in bare feet into the lounge. He'd finished off a small pile of homework and dragged down a blanket from his room to the couch to watch a movie. It was a choice between something childish and simple - Toy Story or Wall-e - or something more thought provoking - Inception or The Green Mile. He went with Wall-e knowing fine well that he'd spend half of the movie in another world.

It was growing gloomy outside, the sky patchy with dark sky, devoid of any stars, and grey clouds. He felt uncharacteristically mopey and a little sorry for himself.

It was understandable that his father wanted him to succeed in life. Dalton helped in that regard but the Andersons were a conservative bunch and Blaine was sure he was the only one to ever dream outside of the safe scope they'd built themselves. He was realistic; it was unlikely he'd ever make it to the top and become some world renowned performer but he had to try and he had interests elsewhere, which gave him just as much pleasure. Teaching, counselling and writing were interests he'd always held and they were suitable life choices - apparently not to William Anderson.

Just because Blaine had made it clear he'd never marry a girl and supply grand children, he was so sure his father compensated for that fact by ensuring Blaine stepped perfectly and precisely in his footsteps. Outsiders would see that and understand it, accept it and view their family as functional... Only it wasn't. It was twisted and strategic. Nothing was based upon desire, passion and talent - it was hypocritical.

It was amazing that he was going to see Kurt again. They'd text a lot - more than a lot - but due to school and family commitments, they'd been so busy. He wanted to see Kurt more but it was a fine line between friends and being pathetically needy. He knew it wasn't a deficiency in character to want to spend time with someone who made you happy but Kurt may not see it like that. Blaine knew he tried hard to appear fine and he was - for the most part - but he also knew that if there was anyone he'd be unable to hide from it would be Kurt.

He'd tried to play the piano. Usually it felt incredible to just lose all sense of the world and let the melody soothe your soul no matter how troubled you were. He was lucky - he knew he'd be utterly selfish to think otherwise - but it wasn't sensible to judge your life in comparison to others'. He felt sad sometimes - that was all he knew.

As he sunk into the cushions, Wall-e scoured his desolate land with his teeny tiny bug friend to the sounds of Hello Dolly. It wasn't a favourite musical but the thought that love only took a moment, a single second, was so magical that it didn't matter that he wasn't really all that into the other songs - Michael Crawford had always been a guilty pleasure anyway.

There was a noise, just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the movie.

Craning his neck to peek out of the window, Blaine saw a car's headlights dim. He scrambled from the couch to find Kurt throwing a bag over his shoulder and beginning the walk up the driveway.

It didn't make sense.

As he pulled open the door, Blaine could feel his pulse in his fingertips.

"Hey! My god, Blaine you didn't tell me you lived in a mansion."

Kurt almost laughed in Blaine's face. His mouth gaped. The best thing was his obviously unprepared appearance and 'normal' Blaine mode. His hair was obviously still a little styled from school but was wispier and curling at the edges; his feet were bare - that alone made him seem smaller, more vulnerable - and his clothes were simple - a pale blue Dalton sport's t-shirt that skimmed his stomach and a pair of dark grey lounge pants that clearly hadn't seen an iron since time purchase. He looked... different.

"Kurt. It's Friday."

Smiling and enjoying his own confidence, Kurt nodded and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder. "Well, Dalton sure has taught you a lot. Days of the week!"

Blaine still couldn't quite move. "What are you doing here? We said Saturday..."

"Well, if you'd rather I leave then I can just get back in-"

"No," Blaine said sharply followed by a bashful smile. He hadn't meant to seem so desperate. "No, don't leave. It's just unexpected that's all. It's late. Isn't your dad going to worry?"

That was where Kurt knew he'd taken a few liberties. It was a gamble as to how Blaine would react.

Azimio and a few other of the pathetic creeps had been up to their old tricks again. It wasn't anything too serious but Kurt had known what McKinley was like without torture and to have it cruelly thrust back into his life had been difficult. He'd talked to his dad. Burt was understanding and valiant as ever - he'd all but strung Figgins up by his cheap striped tie - but Kurt knew he wanted an escape.

The first person he'd wanted to see was Blaine.

"He thinks I'm at Mercedes."

Blaine smiled, bewildered. "You're staying?"

"I know it's presumptuous but I knew you were alone too and this week has sucked for both of us so-"

"Kurt, it's not a problem. You know that. It's just a shock, that's all."

"Well, as charming as your garden is, Blaine, it's seriously cold out here so is it ok if we talk inside?"

"Come in," Blaine laughed, taking Kurt's bag and secretly enjoying the half smile and flicker of shock it caused in Kurt. Chivalry definitely was not dead.

He stood back and watched as Kurt surveyed the room, his eyes scanning and swooping everything from the art work to the wooden flooring and light fittings. It was mystifying witnessing Kurt - so full of life and colour - inside his home. It felt like rebellion.

"Just excuse me while I die," Kurt sighed, his fingers carding through the thick linen curtains and along the silk tie backs.

Chuckling to himself, Blaine placed the bag at the foot of the stairs, his eyes never leaving Kurt. Now he seemed to be tracing the iron sculpture on the fireplace with his fingertips, his head tilted and focused. Blaine had been glancing at that ugly thing for years but Kurt seemed enchanted by it.

"I called her Esmerelda when I was younger," Blaine said, breaking the silence, "she looked like someone from a different country. She seemed exotic. I almost hated her for being so mysterious and magical." He let out a wry laugh to which Kurt turned and stared, his eyes wide.

"Esmerelda may just find her way into my bag when I leave. She's exquisite."

Kurt moved onto the family portrait as he made his way into the entrance once more. "Is this you?" Blaine nodded. He almost felt ashamed. Kurt's house was lived in, comfortable yet tastefully decorated; he knew his home felt cold sometimes despite the plush furnishings. "You look so young."

"I think I was five there."

"You were very cute as a child. Look at you in your little suit. We were quite dapper kids. You wore ties and I wore bow ties."

Kurt was grinning, giddy even, his hands still touching everything in sight as if he had been given permission to cross museum boundaries and fondle the artefacts. Blaine felt choked. Kurt was single handedly blowing him away. He was breaking down walls without even realising; his mere presence was enough to set Blaine's heart on fire and he knew in a second that he wanted that for... forever.

It hit him hard and in a split second like a freight train, a bolt of lightening and every other cliche he could imagine. Kurt was spectacular. He was intrusive, pushy, sarcastic, quick to snap, insecure and a force of nature but that was his character and he was a solid product of his environment. Beyond that, he was kind, thoughtful, gentle, hilariously funny, protective, fiercely compassionate and so god damned beautiful because of those things but mostly due to his eyes - they were Kurt. They made him who he was.

Blaine didn't know what to say.

Kurt could feel Blaine's eyes on him and shuddered under their gaze. It was the nicest feeling in the world. He'd spent far too long being frowned or glared at but, out of the corner of his eye, Blaine's expression was nothing short of swoon worthy. This Blaine - the one unprepared and a little on the softer side - was something else. He was gorgeous in his blazer lit up in a spot light and equally as handsome in the artificial Lima Bean lighting in a smart cardigan but Kurt knew that this Blaine was his favourite.

He always thought he'd want a man in a well tailored suit and shiny shoes like Cary Grant but standing in Blaine's house, as Blaine's hands slid further into the pockets of his loose pants causing his shoulders to hunch slightly, he realised that he wanted way more than he'd previously realised.

He wanted kisses and cuddles and all of the things Finn and Rachel and Quinn and even Puck had, but instead of them being temporary or borne out of a quick rush of feelings, he wanted them to mean so much. He knew that with Blaine they would - they'd mean everything and more.

"I just gate crashed your night, didn't I?"

Blaine bit his lip. "I hardly call a movie and a snack a... night. It was either that or go to sleep. Exciting, right?"

"I brought a few things," Kurt grinned, skipping to his bag and unclasping the ornate metal tabs. "Here."

A pale pink plastic bag was placed in Blaine's arms. Kurt stood proudly beside him, practically buzzing. "Is this Titanic?" Kurt nodded, smirking. "You brought ice cream... oh my god, strawberry cheesecake ice cream. The Notebook... and," Blaine started to laugh, "you brought raspberry tea! Now you can make it for me like you said you wanted to."

Kurt clasped his hands together and jumped a little in the air, bundling the things back together again and skipping to place them on Blaine's coffee table. "We both felt lame and sad so I thought... well, this is what Mercedes and I would do. We'd eat and watch epic love stories and sob into our duvets. I'm not saying we have to do the same but I brought supplies anyway. If it's weird then we don't have to, I just-"

"Kurt, shhh," Blaine interrupted softly, crossing the room and wrapping his arms gently around Kurt's shoulders.

With a tiny squeak of shock, Kurt stiffened in Blaine's arms, his skin flooding warm. Hugging wasn't one of his strong suits.

"I told you I don't get many hugs. I'm taller than you and I don't think I'm very good at it."

Blaine's lips weren't far from his neck. He was only wearing a deep red cardigan over a high necked shirt in midnight blue but the warmth of them, the vibration as Blaine laughed into his shoulder was too much to handle. He felt that ache again, the one that only made him hold tighter and drown in emotion.

"I might be smaller than you but I give exceptional hugs," Blaine whispered into the fluffiness of the red material. It tickled his nose till he couldn't smile anymore.

"Big head."

Blaine buried his nose in the softness, closing his eyes. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Kurt had to laugh. "Ok, I'll give you that."

Fully aware he was so close to simply swooning and collapsing in a pathetic heap, Kurt took a deep breath and detangled himself. His stomach swooped at the tiny noise of unhappiness that escaped from Blaine's lips and the adorable pout he received.

Kurt just looked. He'd never had a boy in his life never mind one who freely initiated the warmest hugs and looked devastating in even a ratty old t-shirt. "Um," he murmured, quite incoherently, biting his lip.

Blaine didn't look away either, nor did he widen the distance between them. "So you're staying? You brought movies, ice cream and raspberry tea and turn up at my house to cheer me up after lying to your father? What was that French phrase? The one you sent me and said I should translate?"

"Oh," Kurt giggled, hiding his face. The way Blaine was looking at him... "If anyone sent me a scarf, I'd propose marriage, Blaine Anderson. Also, I've been the most dutiful son and never broken a rule in my life so, I think he'd give me this one."

Blaine knew his eyes were betraying every single feeling inside. He could feel Kurt's skin fizzing even though they weren't touching; it was new to feel so much, to be sure your lungs and heart were literally failing you because minor functions were second best to the sheer force of emotion.

"Ok, I can set you up in the guest bedroom."

"I'll get spoons?"

Blaine grinned hugely. "Meet you back in the lounge?"

Nodding with a beaming smile, Kurt double skipped through the door and out of sight.

The Anderson kitchen was enormous. Kurt twirled around the stool at the end of the counter and opened a couple of drawers. Each was immaculately filled, so orderly and neat. There were no photographs, no randomly placed objects as a sign of a busy day or a rushed moment - nothing was out of place. He quickly located two spoons and grabbed a bowl just in case. He could hear Blaine's footsteps upstairs and wondered how lonely he must have felt by himself without a single voice or noise to distract him. Suddenly, Kurt understood exactly what Blaine had been talking about for so long. Blaine needed him. He needed someone just as much as Kurt did. Instantly, and with a sudden rush of butterflies, Kurt wanted to be that person. Blaine was oozing with confidence in so many of Kurt's areas of insecurity but Kurt knew he could provide something for Blaine too - a friend, someone to talk to, someone to spend time with and share with. He was... lonely and had been, just like Kurt. His cocky showmanship and good looks were part of who he was and, yes, he had a way about him that screamed 'perfection' but Kurt adored the parts of him that weren't so flawless. He could contribute to Blaine's life if he let him and Kurt knew he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Entering the lounge, Kurt felt such a fondness. A measly granola bar sat beside a cup of juice and a movie paused on-screen. If Kurt knew one thing about himself it was his ability to care and nurture. He'd always wondered if he'd inherited that trait from his mother. Knowing what Blaine's evening would have been made him feel so happy he'd used a little forward thinking and impulsiveness.

"Did you find them ok?" Blaine asked, padding into the lounge with an extra blanket and a thin navy sweater over his t-shirt. "In case you got cold." He signalled to the contents of his hands and dropped down onto the couch.

Kurt took a steadying breath. The process of spending the night suddenly made itself clear, causing a fresh cascade of nerves and realisations that, yes, it was another first.

Blaine took out his DVD and turned to where Kurt was standing, his palms smoothing his jeans.

"Kurt, you can sit down if you'd like. You can't spend the whole night standing."

Huffing a little, Kurt frowned. He knew that, it was just the mechanics of it all that he didn't. "Well, I didn't know if I should sit in this armchair or with you on the couch."

Blaine glanced up. "Well, I know which I'd prefer."

Feeling a little embarrassed but a whole lot happier to be sitting so close too Blaine, Kurt sat to one side, one leg crossed over the other. "Which movie would you prefer?"

Blaine leaned back against the cushions with a pondering sigh. Kurt turned and watched him, feeling the cogs of his brain turning. "You're asking me to choose between young Leonardo Dicaprio and Ryan Gosling in a flat cap."

Giggling, Kurt turned to sit on his bent leg. "I almost brought Brokeback Mountain. That's a whole other dilemma but I thought that the evening would be far too gay, even for me."

Blaine laughed, letting his head fall to the back of the cushion. "True. I'm thinking The Notebook. Titanic's awesome up until the iceberg and then it's just depressing but there's something beautiful about the melancholy of The Notebook and plus, Ryan Gosling with a beard does things to me."

As Blaine slid in the DVD, Kurt chose the moment too peel off his cardigan leaving only his shirt. It felt too much to unbutton it and expose skin - the proximity to Blaine was overwhelming enough - so he sat back just as Blaine did the same.

"So you like guys with beards then?" Kurt asked tentatively. He'd once been likened to a milk maid, doing absolutely nothing for his belief that any guy would find him sexy or appealing in any other sense than cute.

"Well, I suppose it is only Ryan Gosling in a beard. If you include Tom Ford and Johnny Depp and other guys who suit stubble then yes but I said the other night... I don't really have a 'type'. What about you?"

He wasn't asked about his preferences in guys all that often so Kurt took a second to really think. "I like guys who are clean shaven. I don't think I'm really into scruffy guys, unless they're clean and don't smell homeless."

As Blaine laughed to himself, the music began and so did the beautiful images of birds swooping over a lake in early morning sun. "The first guy I ever liked was blonde with blue eyes. The second was tall and Mediterranean looking, all dark eyes and tanned skin. I'm a true believer that it's the whole person you fall for."

"I like that thought," Kurt sighed, shuffling back after unlacing his boots and placing them to the side of the couch.

* * *

><p>They watched and talked for an hour whilst making their way through half of the pint of ice cream. Topics meandered easily and fluidly, touching upon other favourite movies, the beauty of Ryan Gosling in a wet pale blue shirt, stories from McKinley High and a little about Blaine's father's retreat. Kurt felt sleepy, his eyes heavy and limbs lethargic after a day of existing in a constant state of nervous tension.<p>

Blaine knew he couldn't keep his eyes off Kurt. He was as stealthy as possible so that Kurt had absolutely no idea, but ever since he'd arrived, Blaine had viewed every single aspect of his best friend in a new light. They'd had a chance to grow easier with one another and Blaine mentally kicked himself for not seeing it earlier. He'd always been drawn to Kurt's sense of humour, his honesty and, most of all, his pure strength of character but now, it felt as if he'd only been seeing a quarter of who Kurt truly was.

He was gorgeous and the coincidental conversation about it ultimately being the person and not the appearance that you fall for was fated.

By the time Ally had returned to Noah, Blaine was sure he'd missed half of the movie. It was as if a curtain had been lifted, one which only allowed Kurt to be seen as a beautiful boy with a razor sharp personality and a huge heart. Now, he was so completely, mind blowingly hot that Blaine wanted to laugh, face palming for his own sheer blindness.

The shirt he was wearing fit perfectly, skimming his broad shoulders but tapering to what Blaine was sure could be termed a 'nonexistent' waist, it was so slim. Kurt's arms were strong, no doubt from dance or good genes but his forearms and fingers were elegant, soft and dainty, and sending Blaine's mind spiralling with far too many impure thoughts than a movie night with ice cream could deal with.

His legs were long too - endless even on a frame so slight - but were the sign of fitness.

With a sigh - a mixture of amusement and frustration - Blaine focused on the screen with every ounce of concentration. He'd always known he liked guys, was attracted to guys and knew he was one hundred percent gay but, as he'd explained to Kurt, he hadn't felt free enough to express it fully. Simply looking at Kurt felt like opening a door to a world of possibility because he wasn't anything like the guy in Blaine's mind, the one he'd dreamed about and used alone in bed at night; Kurt was a whole person with hopes and dreams, a strong voice with fears and insecurities and a body to die for. His eyes and young features - not to mention his hair that Blaine had once admired from afar but now wanted to mess up well and truly - were so specific to Kurt that Blaine now knew what he'd been missing for years.

He just wanted to curl up against Kurt and learn every last detail about him. He wanted to wrap himself around Kurt and let himself be held for once, safety provided by another. He wanted to stand by Kurt, to be someone he could trust.

He wanted to kiss him.

That was a fact so true that Blaine dug his hand into the cushion to hold himself in place. Kurt may have found him attractive once and from afar but so much had happened and Blaine felt wrong to presume. Kurt hadn't known the person behind the looks and that was the scariest thing of all because maybe that person wasn't someone Kurt could find attractive - their destiny may only be to remain the best of friends.

One thing he did know, and that was that Kurt had issues in that department. His first and precious kiss had been stolen from him, so he deserved tenderness and consideration more than anything. Blaine had read his letter over and over, almost moved by how scared Kurt felt about the possibility of crossing the boundary between friends and more. It was no doubt the unknown but Blaine knew how gently that area of Kurt's life had to be dealt with, how Kidd gloves were required to handle Kurt's heart because it had been bruised and disappointed for far too long.

He glanced over and drew in a gulp of air. Kurt was tucked to his side, his hands as a pillow and legs bent up. He looked comfortable, his face serene and rested with only the barest hint of a smile. Blaine had never slept close to anyone before, only his comforter, but watching Kurt's chest rise and fall in perfect rhythm and hearing the tiny breaths from his lips, he realised exactly what he'd been missing out on. Kurt looked so different - younger, possibly - and, above all, he was peaceful. It wasn't difficult to imagine how many sleepless nights the bullying had caused and, to Kurt, Blaine knew how precious his sleep was. It revived something, Kurt had told him, and as well as a good skin care regime, it was the tip to flawless skin. Blaine was a soap and water kind of guy but closer inspection of the paleness of Kurt's cheeks and the creaminess of his complexion, it was obvious he was way ahead of the curve.

Time disappeared as Blaine just watched him sleep. Every now and then he'd shuffle and Blaine would feel himself tense up in fear of being caught but Kurt didn't wake up - he only buried further into the cushions and fell silent once more. Blaine could feel his warmth even through the gap between them. It was a foregone conclusion that Kurt would hate being watched and would no doubt be embarrassed that he'd fallen asleep so blatantly but Blaine felt so lucky to be one of the few people to see Kurt so unaware and at ease. Trust was implicit in order to allow yourself surrender to sleep in the presence of another and either Kurt was so tired that he couldn't help it or he trusted Blaine enough.

Regardless, Blaine knew he had to wake him eventually. Slowly, he crawled off the sofa and kneeled on the floor, just half a meter short of Kurt's face. He looked truly adorable.

"Kurt?" He whispered at first but let his voice grow in depth and volume each time. "Kurt? Hey... Kurt?"

His hands flying to hide his face, Kurt muffled something incoherent and peered through his fingers, his legs slowly stretching out. Blaine watched his shirt strain and scolded himself for being such a... boy.

"Sorry," Kurt whispered, rolling a little to hide his face, hands straightening out his hair subconsciously.

"It's alright," Blaine soothed. He shocked himself in that moment, his voice so heavily affectionate in a way he'd never heard before. "You can sleep, no problem, I just didn't want you to wake up and forget where you were."

Kurt blinked a few times, his eyes acclimatising to the golden glow of the room, the lamps providing warm yellow orbs in each corner. Blaine looked amazing. He was smiling, his eyes crinkling and doing the scrunchy, squinty thing that Kurt knew he should find hilarious but he didn't - it was too cute to be weird. Blaine's hair was a mess at the back, curling wilder than Kurt had ever seen it and his sweater was creased along one side, the neck scooped lower and pulled in all of the wrong directions. Again, Kurt should have wanted to straighten it out but he didn't. It was a shock to the system that he wanted to mess it up more, to pull it, rearrange Blaine and stake his claim.

"This couch is so comfortable," Kurt whispered, laughing to himself. He never slept on the couch; he tutted when Finn fell asleep, sprawling and like an uncoordinated llama all legs and limbs. Kurt barely recognised himself.

"Stay there. It's fine," Blaine said softly, "you have this blanket and if you feel cold then there's a bed for you upstairs. Ok?"

Kurt nodded, taking the woollen throw from Blaine and shivering a little as he felt Blaine's hands tug it a little higher. He had to still be dreaming.

"Where will you sleep?"

Blaine laughed, his voice lazy but fond. "In my bedroom."

"Stay here."

Kurt didn't know what he was saying. He'd never so much as propositioned someone in his dreams but the thought of Blaine being so far away wasn't right. Blaine needed someone too. He was a gentleman after all - he'd never suggest such a thing - and it possibly acted to his detriment sometimes.

"Kurt, I can't stay, where would I sleep?"

"Here." Kurt squirmed slightly, pressing his back into the feather down cushions and holding his arms to his chest. "I'm taller but not enormous. Your couch is big enough."

Blaine knew it was taking every single shred of will power to resist. The thought of curling up and falling asleep right next to Kurt was just far too close to certain dreams he'd had for many many years. "Kurt..."

"Blaine..." Kurt mimicked. He knew he was a knife edge away from tugging Blaine down. He was impossible, really. Kurt had never considered, in his life, that he'd be asking a boy to sleep by him but now he was, it was a little easier than he'd imagined and impatience bubbled inside him. As the effects of sleep were wearing off, Kurt's brain was sliding back into consciousness and he'd remembered he was still wearing a fifty dollar shirt and designer jeans but even still, he was prepared to crease them and pay up for dry cleaning if it meant Blaine caused the damage.

"We can't." Blaine said simply. His brain screamed otherwise.

"I don't see why not," Kurt stated, his eyes finding Blaine's resolutely and lingering there. It was taking most of his remaining stock of confidence to do it.

Kurt seemed so sure and, if Blaine wasn't imagining it and using far too much wishful thinking, slightly irritated that he wasn't getting his way. He let himself breathe and sighed out, closing his eyes. No way could he keep saying 'no'.

"I'll get the lights," he whispered resolutely, trying to ignore the twinkle in Kurt's eyes. Everything was happening quickly, his heart beating way too fast, feelings cascading in a jumble every few minutes sending his head reeling. As he flicked out the final lamp, plunging the room into darkness, Blaine wondered if that was the way you were supposed to feel. Either way, it was overwhelming but he'd never felt anything closer to ridiculous happiness.

He neared the couch and felt sure his heart was ready to fail. In shadow, Kurt seemed to be in the same position as before so he sat gently and lifted the blanket to his chest before relaxing down onto his back. Kurt was close - very close - and every nerved ending seemed to fire all at once.

Blaine was as warm as Kurt expected.

"What are we doing?" Blaine asked quietly, turning his head to face Kurt who was much closer than anticipated - his eyes were still bright in the darkness.

Before rational thought kicked in, Kurt spoke. "Going to sleep."

The vibrations of Blaine's silent laughter ran through the couch causing Kurt to smile into the blanket. "I can't believe you came here tonight."

"I may have missed you a little," Kurt admitted after a second's silence.

Blaine was sure Kurt would be able to feel the drum of his heart. With gratitude for the soft wool hiding his pathetic grin, Blaine shuffled closer a fraction, their knees bumping gently together. "I don't think I remember what it was like before I knew you."

"Same."

"I like the way we got to know each other."

"Me too."

"Are you going to agree with everything I say because this could become really fun," Blaine teased, his eyes growing accustomed to the darkness enough to catch Kurt's coy smile.

"You know me well enough to know I'd never do that."

"True."

They didn't speak for a moment, Blaine pulling at the thin material of his sweater to realign the seams. "Sorry," he whispered as his elbow came into contact with something.

"It's ok. If you're too warm..."

"No," Blaine laughed, burying his head into the softness. It felt ridiculous. They were the closest they'd ever been, they were alone in an empty house, the air almost laced with unspoken words and feelings and they were talking like old friends - simple and innocent. Every word fell lightly into the air, so matter of fact and free that neither the serious topics nor the flippant ones appeared different from one another. "I'm fine, it's just, I've never slept like this before and I don't want to move around in my sleep in case I wake you"

"I'd kick you if you did," Kurt scoffed.

It was Kurt's talent of breaking the ice that did it - whether he knew it or not. It was the way he had such little awareness of how wonderful he was in so many ways. Blaine knew that when the moment was right, he had to try and explain _exactly that_so Kurt knew and understood.

As his limbs melted into the couch, Kurt closed his eyes and focused upon every part of his body that fell to lie against Blaine's. His knees, his elbow and Kurt was sure his toes were resting against Blaine's ankle, curved against the arch of it. The intimacy of would never be considered explosive to others but the fact that tears threatened at the corner of Kurt's eyes was so immediate he could hardly stop them. Screwing them tight, he breathed deep, focusing on the rise and fall of Blaine's chest and the timbre of his heartbeat close-by.

Blaine took a breath as if to speak. "I'm so pleased we met."

"I am too although I have too many beautiful stationary sets left unused. It's criminal." It was as if Blaine was pushing, trying to press the conversation into the realm of honesty and more emotional matters. There was a question Kurt had wanted to ask for a while but he'd refrained, his nerves not _quite_extending that far. "Can I ask you something?"

Immediately, Blaine's heart quickened. "Of course."

"Why did you call it a date when we went to see Rent?"

Kurt lay still, his body singing with nervous tension and each breath on a stuttering knife edge. He just _had_to ask.

It was as if Kurt's question unlocked the last door and gave Blaine the confidence to do what he'd been trying to stop thinking about all night. He'd tried but telling Kurt how he felt and just getting it all out in the open was filling him up too much, suffocating every word and clouding every look with so much feeling that he could hardly think. There was so much he wanted, so much he knew Kurt wanted too but, as many wise people often said, the thin line between friends and more was always as delicate as a flower petal. With Kurt it was doubly so.

"Kurt, did I ever tell you why we're called The Warblers?"

"No."

Blaine smiled as Kurt became a little clearer, his nose only a few inches away.

"Well, Warblers are birds. They usually sing in large groups, harmonising. They strive to live that way instead of being alone because when they're solitary, they become a little lost. Their voice isn't as strong, they don't feel part of something and legend says that when a Warbler has been alone for a long time, their voice becomes weaker and their magic dampened but when joined again by a partner, someone to sing with, to harmonise with and share their soul's purpose then that voice slowly returns and their full vibrancy is restored."

Kurt could feel his eyes prickling with tears. His mouth gaped a little, lips pouting into a tiny bow as Blaine's eyes sparkled in the darkness.

"I didn't know that."

Smiling full of emotion and with trembling fingers, Blaine didn't look away. "I think there's a moment when, like a Warbler, you say to yourself, _'oh there you are, I've been looking for you forever'_. I felt that. With you." Blaine knew he was shaking but Kurt wasn't racing for the door so some blessed pocket of confidence kept his lips moving. "When we began writing to one another, I only did it because David signed me up to PFLAG and the email made me curious after a bad day. When I got your letter, it was nice to begin with just to know that there was someone in this area like me and someone I could talk to but I didn't expect to connect to the person or anything-"

"Our school counsellor told me that I should try it. I took it as a personal insult. I'm labelled a loser enough at McKinley without adding to it so I thought she was an idiot." Sucking in a breath, Kurt smiled, eyes shining with rested tears.

"I don't blame you. I just remember reading your first letter and you made me laugh. That's a hard thing to do with me. By our fourth letter, I felt like I knew you somehow, like we connected in a way I truly didn't expect. It was when we started really talking, sharing things that I'd never shared with anyone before. I remember reading how sad you felt, how miserable your school was making you and wishing I could help in some way and then, well, the misunderstanding happened. I felt so bad. It was a mess and I was responsible-"

"I'd have done the same, Blaine," Kurt said quickly, his hand inching closer but fell short, not quite making contact. Blaine noticed. His spine tingled.

"I know but I still felt awful. Anyway, when we spoke on the phone, I knew we'd be fine and I don't think I've ever been more relieved. Just hearing your voice was enough. I used to come home and, yes, singing with The Warblers makes me happy and I have other things too but life was getting me down and I felt flat. Somehow, your letters became part of my day, of my week, and we wrote quicker and with way more honesty than we had done before. I was so worried when you didn't write and when Karofsky did what he did. It felt hard having a friend you couldn't go see and check they were ok. I wanted to meet you. It was after one of your last letters. I _know _you said you were going to burn it or even refuse to send it at all but I'm so pleased you didn't. I'd never admit this to anyone but you moved me, you made me cry and I don't do that often. I felt so angry that the things that should be special and full of magic had been so horrible. You should never have been treated like that and hearing that some of those things were firsts and not only that but," Blaine swallowed hard, his brain working in overdrive and completely unstoppable, "that you felt uncomfortable with them... It's _so_wrong."

"Not with you," Kurt muttered under his breath, more forceful words impossible as his throat choked with every word. There wasn't room to be embarrassed when every syllable Blaine spoke was so fused with compassion and an oddly fierce sense of protectiveness.

"What?"

Breathing deep, Kurt swallowed hard. "I said not with you. The feeling uncomfortable... it doesn't happen so much."

"Oh." Blaine fell silent. He needed a moment; his mind ricocheting with the multitude of possibilities for the meaning to Kurt's words. "I'm glad."

"I cried when you called me. The things you said."

Blaine watched Kurt's eyelashes meet his cheek, quick fingers swiping under them followed by a shy smile - something Kurt didn't often show. "I just want..." He couldn't finish. Blaine knew he wanted too much. "I want..."

Kurt was so still, still so composed even though Blaine could see his eyes were glistening and could feel his heart beating faster. The unassuming way he lay so motionless and contained regardless of how he felt inside was so Kurt-like. His eyes were blown wide and refused to move from Blaine's; his cheeks - even through the darkness - were noticeably pink and just as Blaine felt his stuttering breath tumble over his words, silencing him, he couldn't think straight any longer. Kurt made him happy - that was all he needed to know.

In a moment, or seconds after the softest gasp, Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt's, his eyes sliding closed.

So many words swam in his mind, melted and warm, but the way Kurt sucked in a breath, his body tensing so perfectly in shock was the thing that did it. It was tentative and ever so soft with only the slightest sound.

As Blaine felt an ache, low and deep and dragging him down in the best possible way, the gradual press of fingers made their way along his jaw as Kurt dragged him closer.

Kurt could barely move. All that mattered were Blaine's lips, the smoothness of his skin and the way his chest inched closer, the weight pressing him down and holding him in place. The overwhelming sense of heat and an added need for... _everything_... was too much to handle. He wanted Blaine. It was an entirely new feeling and as it took over, filling him up, choking him a little and telling his hands to hold tighter, lips to press firmer and every inch to seek out the warmth of Blaine's body, Kurt was sure he was losing his mind.

Blaine felt Kurt's lips lift free delicately, as if they didn't expect to be kissed again - grateful for the first time but so unassuming. They were only centimeters apart now. As a breath ghosted his cheek, Blaine lifted open his eyes to find Kurt staring straight at him, bright and alive but glittering with every emotion imaginable. He looked near to hyper-ventilation, his shoulders rising and falling with laboured breaths.

Blaine truly had no words. He couldn't shake the ache he'd never experienced before and knew if Kurt moved even a fraction, his heart would break and body would crumble. It was as if he'd found what he'd always needed and giving it back just wasn't an option.

"We should..." Blaine whispered, completely mindless as to what the end of the sentence could have been before Kurt covered the distance between them and pressed Blaine into the cushions; his lips kissed harder and with just the exact amount of pressure.

All Kurt could feel was heat. He couldn't get close enough. As he felt Blaine's fingers slide along his hip, his mind raced, the fears and worries of old stuttering over one another until all he could do was stop. He leaned back, eyes closed tight, and sunk to Blaine's side. The loss of contact felt painful, as if something necessary and vital had been removed, but he couldn't think straight.

"Kurt?" Blaine could feel the panic creep up his spine, fingertips suddenly cold. "Are you ok?"

"Need a second."

The only contact left was Kurt's right hand. It was curled into Blaine's sweater and he could feel it pulled tighter and moving ever so slightly with each and every breathe Kurt took.

Blaine slid his fingers through the gaps between Kurt's and watched his eyes fly open, lips parting a little and gratitude flooding his expression.

"No rush."

Without blinking, Kurt leaned closer to Blaine once more and snuggled his head into the gap between chin and chest. "I..." Kurt's voice was different, filled with something new. In a second his lips sought out Blaine's again as if incapable of separation, swiftly sucking the air away and holding them still for a moment, unmoving. It was Blaine who responded, his arms wrapping around Kurt's waist and holding him tight, the meaning behind it so explicit without requiring words.

Kurt stopped once more, this time allowing his lips to drag free, slower as if making the most of every second and letting his brain catch up. It didn't seem real. He didn't like to be out of control, nor did he like the notion of being vulnerable and so open that another person's actions could crush you in a heartbeat but Blaine's arms weren't moving, his back was arched and followed the labour breath as if the moment took every drop of energy from his body - Kurt knew he wasn't scared.

"I... We... I don't know why I don't know what to say."

Blaine breathed out on a laugh, feeling Kurt tuck into his side and lay his head down. "Same."

"That damned Warbler story. Do you use that on every guy you lure over to your beautifully decorated empty mansion?"

Kurt knew he was being ridiculous but short of _'oh my god'_, _'you're everything I've ever wanted and more_', _'I've never felt like this in my whole life'_ and '_thank you'_, nothing else seemed to fit. He giggled slightly, lips moving against Blaine's chest. He could feel his eyes still a little wet.

"You came here remember," Blaine laughed, "and believe me, none of this is rehearsed."

"You smell of laundry detergent."

Chuckling and pressing his lips to Kurt's hair momentarily, Blaine closed his eyes. It was as if he was drowning under the vastness of the moment regardless of how contained they were, how close and tight they fit together and the lack of emotional space between them.

Kurt felt giddy.

Blaine moved to slide his unoccupied arm free. As he did, Kurt dared to glance into his eyes. "Can we sleep here still?"

"Sure."

"I can make incredible pancakes."

Blaine laughed, raising his eyebrows. "It's crazy to me that you'll still be here in the morning."

A wash of heat blanketed Kurt's body at those words. They felt safe and contained. He was scared – that was unquestionable – but Blaine wasn't the scary part, he wasn't the part that caused anxiety. The feelings did and the consequences of those feelings – those were the parts guaranteed to keep the pace slow but it didn't seem to matter because he knew that, yes, they'd never get it exactly right but they'd try and _that _was worth more than anything.

"I may need reminding that this was real in the morning," Kurt whispered, fingers daring to walk across Blaine's chest and fall to a wide open palm over his heart.

Blaine watched every second, smiling at the gesture and holding Kurt's hip just a fraction tighter. "We'll still be here. I'll still be here."

"That sounds nice."

Blaine nuzzled closer, feeling Kurt do the same. They both laughed lightly, Blaine's chin resting gently on the top of Kurt's head, enjoying the added height for once. "The house is all locked up so we don't need to move if you don't want to."

Kurt chanced it. Ever since he'd mentioned breakfast, his brain couldn't help but wonder – what if. "Maybe we don't have to sleep on the couch. Maybe we can sleep somewhere else."

Immediately, Blaine slid sideways and off the couch, causing Kurt to scramble to a sitting position, eyes blinking through the darkness. He felt cold, the heat of Blaine lost to air and space and distance. "Only if you're sure, Kurt, because we don't have to stay upstairs. We can sleep here or in separate rooms, because-"

"Not separate rooms," Kurt rushed, embarrassed by how frantic he sounded. They'd spent too long being so far apart – Kurt wanted closeness and now he knew exactly how Blaine felt pressed against him and wrapped around him, anything less felt wrong. "Please."

Smiling slowly, Blaine held out his hand to help Kurt up. Taking it and trying to suppress the rush of emotion that clutched at his chest, Kurt stood and followed Blaine slowly through the blackness.

Blaine knew he'd tidied up quickly after Kurt's arrival. He hadn't expected _anything _and certainly could never have hoped for the night to progress in quite the same way but he knew Kurt and knew how excited he'd been to explore the house. Knowing he'd want to see where Blaine wrote their letters, he'd made sure his room was presentable.

Blaine flicked on a lamp, his room bathing instantly in a golden glow. "If you want to change..."

Kurt was speechless. The walls were dark and furnishings rich, but there were so many things that caught his eye. There were spots of such bright colour provided by a cool arty lamp on Blaine's desk and posters and it was just the right side of cluttered. Expectations were a funny thing; Blaine seemed so well put together, so tidy and organised and although the room was neat, bold and traditional, it was also full of character and vibrancy. It felt like the very best representation of Blaine himself.

Then there was his cork board.

Kurt decided, storing a mental note for the morning, to pay particular attention to it when things weren't so intense.

Blinking back into the room, Kurt remembered Blaine's words. "I brought pyjamas."

Blaine stifled a giggle. "This is so weird. Um, the bathroom's down the hall."

Kurt hid his face, smiling, but a little nervous under the scrutiny. Turning, he gestured without speaking that he was leaving the room.

Ten minutes later and Kurt felt exposed. It was one thing to ride the spontaneity and kiss Blaine on the couch in his clothes but it was an entirely different matter now he was in night wear that nobody – well, except his family, Mercedes and Rachel Berry – had ever seen before. Night times were _his _time. They'd been sacred and quiet times, dedicated to forgetting the day that had gone before or memorising the special moments.

Blaine looked up, well aware his eyes widened and heart fluttered as Kurt entered the room. He looked adorable. Daytime Kurt was so layered and striking with just the right amount of style and an overpowering amount of personality but night time Kurt looked stripped bare. He was still so regal and stunning but he felt subtler, more understated and delicate. Blaine just wanted him near. It was _this _Kurt that had no doubt spent sleepless nights alone. It was _this _Kurt who'd fought to push the dark thoughts away in the overpowering silence.

Looking at the way his hair was falling out of style a little, how his eyes were still so sparkly with unresolved emotion and how his hands, the ones Blaine could still feel on his skin, were clasped together.

Switching off the light, Blaine knew they just had to keep going. The night was impulsive and filled with so much that neither could fathom what the next best move was. Kurt sighed in relief as he made his way towards Blaine's bed.

He felt the dip of movement as Blaine shuffled towards the wall, the duvet looped back on itself. "You ok?"

"Yes." Kurt slid in, his feet instantly warm and legs finding Blaine's. He flinched at the contact somewhat but as Blaine tossed the duvet over him and settled down until his head landed comfortably on the pillow, Kurt knew he didn't need to worry.

"We can just sleep, you know?" Blaine whispered as Kurt shifted to face him, "we don't need to talk about anything or do anything."

Kurt let out his held breath. Blaine's honesty had always been refreshing but now it felt vital. "Sleep sounds good," Kurt said simply, hoping no offence would be taken and Blaine wouldn't read too far into it. The comfort was enough. Having Blaine right next to him and someone to drift off to sleep with, knowing they'd be there in the morning – _that _was what mattered, first and foremost. The rest was just too enormous to contemplate.

Blaine could feel his own heartbeat once more. He watched as Kurt's lips quirked slightly and fixed in a lazy smile as his eyes fell closed. He looked so still and yet so far away. He was still doing it, still refusing to let himself believe that he could have anything, do anything and say anything and Blaine wouldn't run a mile. The fact he was so unused to physical or even emotional contact, was glaringly obvious. Blaine knew he was too but he also knew he'd grab at it if it was offered. Kurt knew Blaine was there in front of him, wanting to be closer and he simply and calmly lay motionless. It was as if he was content with exactly what was being offered.

"Kurt?"

As Kurt opened his eyes, Blaine's face swam into vision and blurred as lips touched his own and teased gently. Fingertips traced the outline of his pyjama top lightly, only grasping hold as the kiss deepened.

Kurt sighed into it, hoping Blaine would feel everything he was trying to convey.

As if it were a goodnight kiss, Blaine leaned back, gazing into Kurt's eyes for a moment and then rested forward, his head laying down against Kurt's shoulder.

The warmth was incredible. Kurt stiffened at first, unused to being the one to do the hugging, but as Blaine's hand mirrored how his own had been while lying on the couch – pressed over his heart – Kurt let their bodies fit together and allowed his hand to dare to lie against Blaine's lower back.

Like a cat, Blaine twisted against it, snuggling closer with the smallest noise of contentment. Kurt knew tears were going to pool along his eyelashes again out of a mixture of shock and overpowering emotion.

"Night, Kurt," Blaine murmured, his voice suggesting he was already seconds away from sleep.

"Night."

The duvet cradled him whole, wrapping itself around both of them as if to keep them together. Kurt wanted to laugh and cry and a hundred other things but he knew, as Blaine's breathing evened out, that he'd never take for granted how he'd learned so quickly to really... feel.

* * *

><p><strong>~tbc<strong>

* * *

><p>PLEASE NOTE: <strong><em>This is another 10,000 words. That's 20,000 in two days. Eek! There will be a delay of around 5 days. I have so much to do in RL and it's all really very important so as much as I'd adore to just sit in the sun and write this while I have the house to myself, I can't. To keep the Chapters as long and in the same quality, I need a little time. I hope you all understand :)<em>**

**_Thank you once more - I was going to stop it immediately after the kiss and tease the night time but I couldn't do that to you... you'll have to wait for the little pancake scene till next time ;) For those who keep asking if Kurt will transfer/Blaine will transfer - in this world... there's absolutely no need. There'll be issues but no, no transfering is happening. If they could go months without seeing each other face-to-face then they'll be fine as much as it will obviously suck now they know how it feels to have each other ;)_**

**_There will be a Chapter 11, 12 and a 2 part Epilogue - for those who were asking that too :)_**

**_Over and out *cuddles*_**


	15. The Night

Title: Wild Horses (11A/12)  
><span>Word Count<span>: ~3,500  
><span>Warnings:<span> AU (using as much canon as possible but a little out of order)  
><span>Rating:<span> PG-13 for this chapter (PG-13 - NC-17)  
><span>Summary:<span>A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

**Author's Notes**  
><strong><em>This is the part where I grovel for forgiveness ;) I'm SO very sorry for the wait for the rest of WH. Life has been a little bit tough recently and oh so busy. I did leave messages on my tumblr but I know a lot of you may not follow me so consider this an apology for the wait. That said, here's the next installment and they will come regularly now until the end. Not long now :( All of your messages and love for this story - I truly do wish I could cuddle you all.`<em>**

**_This is the first half of Part 11, which is split into two: Night and Morning. I promised pancakes and I shall deliver on my promise but I always planned this. It's an extension of canon ideas (you'll no doubt notice a few sneaky references) but is also a development of things talked about so far._**  
><strong><em>Thank you once again, and as always to ccmskatechickKerry and the lovely and fabulously fun LTB girls. ROLL ON SEPTEMBER 20th!_**

**_Please, please enjoy and join in my awwwwing at their shared sweetness for each other. FINALLY._**

* * *

><p>Kurt always took a drink to bed. It's a nightly ritual. Not only is it healthy and vital for flushing your system, it's also so necessary when Finn insists on having the heating pulled up so high you can swallow the air.<p>

Kurt has always been a fresh air addict. There's nothing better than a breeze to blow away the cobwebs and begin a new day free of stuffy memories of what has gone before. The birdsong helps too.

Far too much time has passed since "the regime" has been interrupted or even ceased to exist – it's mandatory for a good night's sleep – but now it has and Kurt can hardly complain.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, blinking away the remnants of sleep, Kurt shuffled a little as lazy thoughts of the night before grew larger and fuller in his mind until he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs.

He wasn't at home. He didn't have a glass of water by the bed. He certainly wasn't in his own bed. He knew, ordinarily, that those facts combined should have induced a frantic panic attack but he could feel a nose – Blaine's nose – pressing close to his neck, short but steady breaths causing him to shudder as they ghosted over his skin.

It felt like a dream, a very farfetched dream that Kurt knew he hadn't so much as allowed himself to indulge in. He'd sworn off 'what if's – the same 'what if's that used to get him from one day to another.

Blaine shifted in his sleep, legs squirming and pulling closer to Kurt in a way that sent his heart all a flutter. He hadn't so much as touched a boy in a romantic way before the night's events and now he had to accept that he was indeed lying in a bed with a boy who clearly finds it preferable to wind himself tight around people and snuffle into their necks. It was adorable, really. Kurt knew he'd waited a long time for adorable; he'd experienced longing and unrequited, fake and for show and finally forced and unwanted but never adorable, never the sweetness of what he always hoped the world would give him.

Here he was though.

Blaine's fingers flexed, his shoulders rolling his chest into Kurt's until almost every single limb, every part of his torso and the entire planes of his legs were so close that Kurt could feel the heat sinking into his skin and warming his bones. He'd always been a naturally cold blooded person, always freezing in the cold Ohio Winters, which was his explanation for his vast collection of knit wear, but it seemed that Blaine was the embodiment of a human radiator and oh so perfect to cuddle.

He was cuddling.

_Cuddling._

_With Blaine._

_In a bed._

_Alone._

_In an empty house._

None of it made sense. None of it could possibly be real because then that would have to mean that at least someone was giving him a break. It wasn't God – he didn't exist – and Kurt was all too sure it wasn't the goblin on the dark side of the moon casting romantic spells. There had to be an explanation.

"Kurt?" Blaine's eyelashes fluttered, tickling the sensitive skin at Kurt's jaw and causing him to jump.

"I woke you."

"No," Blaine whispered, his head still buried close to the edge of the duvet and hands still very much grasping Kurt's pyjamas. "I keep waking up from the most _amazing_ sleep at regular intervals. I don't think I'm used to someone being in my bed."

Kurt could _feel_ the heat of the blush, his cheeks glowing like a supernova in the dark. Blaine needed to just sleep again and allow Kurt a few more minutes to mentally freak out so that he could at least form a logical sentence and one which didn't cause Blaine to think he was special – and not in the good way.

"Yeah."

"It's late," Blaine mumbled. He pushed himself upwards with lethargic arms, hands pressing into the mattress and Kurt felt it – the loss. It was a rush of desperation to pull Blaine back down to him and refuse to move forever – he could be perfectly stubborn when he wanted to be. Why not now?

"No," Kurt whispered, "I mean, _yes_ it's late but you don't have to, um..."

As hazel eyes met his, the gasping noise he made was unavoidable. He'd forgotten for a moment just how real it all was: Blaine's sleep creased face, his drooping eyelids and crumpled hair. It was a most remarkable thing. Kurt sighed to himself, his heart suspended in waiting for what would happen next; it was too normal, too nice and exactly not as awkward as he'd imagined.

Blaine sat up with his legs crossing in the process and smiled.

"You, um..."

He reached out, voice trailing off, and swiped the strand of unruly hair from Kurt's cheek. "That ok?" Kurt nodded, humming a response. He seemed nervous but something about the darkness, the almost anonymity of it, felt right and safe – especially with Blaine.

"I wondered if you'd mind if I helped myself to some water. I always take one to bed with me."

"Kurt, you don't need to ask." Blaine clambered up and stepped off the bed with an extended hand. "Company?"

Laughing under his breath, Kurt gently took Blaine's hand and followed.

The house was ornate and grand – that could never be disputed – but the more he saw of Blaine's home, the more Blaine's worries and insecurities made such sense. It showed in the way that, even walking down the stairs, Blaine stayed close and kept at least one part of himself in contact with Kurt.

Kurt felt his skin scorch at every touch.

Both walked in relative silence, only the pale light from the uncovered windows casting a glow. Kurt watched as Blaine pulled out a stool at the counter in the kitchen and reached high into a cupboard for a glass. His t-shirt crawled up his back a little exposing a snapshot of bare skin. Kurt felt his inner self shrink and cringe – so pathetic, such a child, terribly naive...

Still, he kept staring, his eyes zeroing in at the tanned skin and the way the material seemed to skim it perfectly, falling in loose creases over the waistband of Blaine's lounge pants. It was innocent enough staring but Kurt's face flamed at the mental images. Teeth and tongue.

Never had he envisaged such things with another human being – not even Finn at the height of his crush and he'd seen Finn in football kit, which was surely the ultimate fantasy.

If Blaine in sleepwear was too much, Kurt thought, how in hell would he survive smart Blaine in a possible three-piece tuxedo or Blaine with less clothes. He couldn't think that. No.

Kurt swallowed hard and mentally screamed his skin into pale submission. It was a curse having such fair skin. There were just too many feelings and his body seemed desperate to show him up and force him to become so embarrassed, he would never have the chance to see Blaine in a gorgeous suit. He felt torn between wanting to pounce on Blaine and kiss every square inch of him – now that he knew how spine-tingling kisses were – and wrapping himself around Blaine's every limb and cooing into his hair. Kurt knew his year had sucked and every time something good seemed to arise, he'd be reminded of the looming misery hanging over his head, but now those shadows were shifting and suddenly his life felt a little brighter, a little airier and much, much more optimistic – all in a matter of months.

Blaine had a wonderful life but Kurt couldn't help but see so many of his own horrors reflected in Blaine's eyes but the worst thing was - they were worse.

Crossing that boundary between friends and more had been simple really. Kissing Blaine hadn't been as icy veined frightening and mortifying as he imagined any first kiss would be. Exceptionally overwhelming was an adequate description. A dream come true was another. That was the snag. They'd made that step but now the list of potential problems rolled through Kurt's brain as if to threaten him.

He didn't really like _people. _They were, more often than not, useless or cruel or they let you down or left you. The people who were none of those things, those who stuck close and smiled with care, were few and far between and Kurt knew he cherished those parts of his life but he wasn't a people person as he let far too much disdain float in his system and inject his eyes with a look that screamed 'keep your distance'.

He had absolutely no idea what to do next.

If only relationships came with an instruction manual.

_Relationship._

Kurt hid his smile behind his hand just as Blaine slid a glass of cool water into his hand and joined him at the counter, pulling up the other stool.

It was silent for a moment as Kurt took careful sips. Blaine eyes seemed saturated with something indeterminable from the small glimpses Kurt caught out of the corner of his eye.

"I always used to sit here," he said eventually," I used to watch my mom cook and clean or even finish up work. She always looked so accomplished and prepared for anything. She never had a hair out of place."

"She sounds like a brilliant woman."

Blaine grinned, propping up his chin and watching Kurt's sips. "She was something spectacular, my dad too, when I was small. I guess all parents ar-"

He stopped with wide eyes. A choked noise came before he spoke, words rolling into one another.

"Oh Kurt, I'm so sorry. That was insensitive." He looked stricken.

"Hey," Kurt soothed, half smiling, "just because my mom's gone, doesn't mean you can't talk about yours, Blaine. Go on."

With a deep breath and grateful smile, Blaine moved a fraction closer. His legs came to rest alongside Kurt's.

"I guess it wasn't until recently that I realised she was just human and it scared me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I saw my parents for what they are," he frowned. Kurt watched as Blaine's eyes clouded. "I guess you see your parents as superheroes – everybody does. When you're a kid, you cry and they're there, no words asked and with a big smile or a hug. They pass you a tissue or patch up any grazed knees and you know they love you unconditionally. Nothing stands in the way of that but it's different when you grow older." Kurt didn't speak. Instead, he just listened. He had opinions – lots of them – but this wasn't the time to voice them. His hand lay flat on the table intentionally, just in case Blaine needed to take it. After all, touch was important to him. "When I told my mom and dad about my sexuality, it was easier for me. I'd known for a while and had spent time getting used to it in my own head. They were shocked, obviously. I expected that and knew it'd take time for them to get used to it too. That's the hard part. I thought they would. I presumed, as most kids do. I just thought it was inevitable because isn't that what parents are for? They're meant to love you. I thought there'd just be this period of adjustment and then things would get better. So naive."

"Blaine, of course they love you." Kurt felt desperate but he kept his eyes resolute and unwavering. He'd found a lot of things tough in his life so far, but at least his father never ever looked away when he had a problem, he never shied away from anything Kurt threw at him regardless of how little he understood. Kurt knew his dad was still a superhero but Blaine didn't have that. His parents kept their love buried and what good is that to anyone?

"I guess there are different types of love. I never want to love someone on a basis or ignore parts of a person that I don't like because that's just cruel. It's like you're telling that person without words that they should be ashamed of that part of them. That's not true love. That's a whole bunch of conditions and parameters. Call me a hopeless romantic but I don't want love if that's what it is. That kind of thing will let you down, disappoint you or break your heart." Blaine took a breath.

It was a load of baggage to unload, especially onto Kurt who had his own problems but something about the acceptance in Kurt's eyes caused him to talk faster. He'd never allowed himself to trust another with his inner demons – nobody understood and everyone had their own issues to deal with.

Kurt was different. Something unbreakable existed in his eyes; they were sure and ironclad. The way he touched and allowed his shroud to fall was something Blaine had never mastered. Kurt believed himself to be inexperienced and scared to open up but he wasn't at all. When Kurt opened up, he bared his entire soul and that was truly brave.

Nobody could be frightened to give their heart to someone like Kurt. It'd be cherished, fiercely protected and every moment would be treasured. Nothing would ever be taken for granted.

"When I pretended to be wearing flannel and trucker caps as part of my chosen wardrobe," Kurt began, "it was because of Finn. I was so intent on spending time with him and making life easier for my dad but what I realised was that I didn't have to be ashamed of who I was and didn't have to change for anyone. This is who I am. I was born this way. I'm never going to change and I'm proud to be who I am. I won't settle for someone who doesn't love me for me. I know that sometimes, if you're special, you have to get used to being alone but I'd rather be that way then compromising myself for someone else."

Blaine felt his fingertips shake, his palms beginning to heat up. His chest stuttered with emotion before he rested close to Kurt and kissed him, sweet and slow.

Nothing had ever felt comfortable in his life. He'd had fun, made friends and tried to enjoy every day but deep inside, buried under the regret, the taunts, the old bruises and frustration was a knot he had never found the ability to untie.

Sitting in front of Kurt in lounge pants and puffy eyes with the only light provided by the overhead spots under the kitchen cupboards, as Kurt's hand splayed against his chest... _that _felt comfortable and pretty indescribable.

After a moment of soft but insistent kisses, Kurt felt his head reel. Blaine's lips were full and searching, his cheeks only slightly rough as the space between them gradually disappeared. As awkward as it was to get closer while perched on stools, Blaine dragged his mid-kiss, the metal scraping on the tiled floor. He slotted his legs either side of Kurt's.

The heavy ache in Kurt's stomach dragged down, his breathing running quick and jagged – nothing could accurately describe the feeling of falling completely crazy for someone. There were no rules and the wild feeling inside was thrilling and petrifying but mostly just warm and swimming with happiness. His skin planed with tingles.

"It's three am," Kurt mumbled against Blaine's lips, suddenly giddy. It couldn't be his life, his reality. Like an addiction, any space between them felt wrong.

"So."

"Blaine._ Blaine_, I... hey. Can we-" Kurt signalled to the doorway, cringing a little at the odd angle they'd found themselves in. "Can we maybe..."

Kurt all but slammed down his glass, fumbling to stand as Blaine reached forward and kept his lips pressed close. He smiled, breathed out a laugh and pulled Kurt backwards into the lounge where the darkness fell thicker. "I just..."

"Shhh."

Kurt felt the couch before he saw it. His hip hit the arm and the rest of his body snaked to manouver around the table until Blaine stood in front of him, kissing him still and firmly pressing him down. His insecurities screeched from inside his mind, as always, but it was the way Blaine was touching him, as if every contact was important, every kiss needed. He couldn't process the idea that someone wanted to do this. He was wanted.

"I _swear_ I didn't plan this," Blaine breathed roughly.

"_I_ came here, Blaine. I... you didn't-"

"Oh right. Yes."

Blaine nuzzled closer, he legs effectively trapping Kurt in place and wrapping his arms mindlessly around Kurt's waist, one sliding up and over his pyjama top and the other resting there, hot and a little shaky. Kurt sucked in a breath, suddenly incapable of basic human functions, and gasped as Blaine pressed closer, lips searching a little harder and shivering from the effort. Just the touching felt other-worldly but the kissing... the kissing felt nothing short of fairytale.

Kurt's mind sprawled, useless and ignorant. Interrupting when a gorgeous and rather beautiful boy – inside and out – chose to kiss you insistently was not sensible nor was it fair.

Blaine squirmed, his hand easing under Kurt's arching back.

He couldn't breathe. Kurt seemed so lost to it all with his eyes closed and each breath frantic against Blaine's cheek. He was so tentative, only responding to Blaine's touch but with each one, he reacted instantly and made it last longer or hummed in response. The details were so perfectly Kurt.

"Sorry if... not good at this-"

"Shhhhh."

"Blaine." Kurt's voice was heavy with _something _but Blaine knew his brain couldn't deal with thoughts. It was tangled with the heady feeling of being touched and touching and kissing and...

Kurt felt Blaine's fingers accidentally skim his skin at the edge of his pyjama top and drew in a quick sharp breath, his body turning rigid.

Pulling his hand back, Blaine looks panicked, eyes deep and rounded. "Ok?"

"Yes," Kurt whispered quietly, his eyes closed. "Fine. Great. Good. Fantastic."

A light laugh came from the darkness as Kurt opened his eyes to find Blaine sitting on the other edge of the sofa, his hands in his lap, breathing somewhat ragged. "_What _are we doing?"

Half dazed, Kurt hid his face. "Don't ask me. I have no answers. I believe we may have kissed," his face burned, "on your couch in the middle of the night. I feel as if I should pull out a checklist of teenage 'must dos' and tick a box."

Blaine began to laugh from his stomach, rough and infectious. "Come here," he said quietly, opening his arms. Kurt blinked.

"You'll have to be more specific."

Rolling his eyes playfully, Blaine reached out, took Kurt's fingers and pulled him forward, angling him against the back of the couch and kissing him again, this time less frantic. He was savouring it, dragging it out till Kurt could hardly breathe.

"Dreamy," Kurt drawled, lost in the moment and only opening his eyes when Blaine stopped.

"What?"

"I was right. You are."

Like the most welcome vice, something clutched at Blaine's chest and drained his mind of anything dark and troublesome. "I don't think I've told you."

He leaned in once more, pressing a line of kisses down Kurt's cheek and ending with his mouth; he dared to suck gently and let out a surprised laugh against Kurt's lips. "Told me what?"

"Can I tell you how wonderful you are in the morning when I'm capable of coherent thought and also in full light so I can see your eyes and avoid mumbling like an idiot? I swear I'm eloquent. I'm from Dalton Academy."

Kurt groaned but smiled nevertheless.

"Make you pancakes."

"Ok. After pancakes. _Promise_ I'll tell you."

There were no boundaries anymore and no constraints keeping Kurt from acting on impulse and seeking out the parts of Blaine he wanted to touch. Plus there was the newfound wonder of succumbing and letting go. He couldn't remember the last time he _had_ – except when holding a mic – but as Blaine's words drifted into another long and deep kiss destined to evaporate every rational thought, Kurt never wanted to resist again – not with Blaine. Never with Blaine.

* * *

><p><strong>~tbc<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>7 days. 7 days. 7 days.<strong>


	16. To Clarity

Title: Wild Horses (11B/12)  
><span>Word Count<span>: ~5,500  
><span>Warnings:<span> AU (using as much canon as possible but a little out of order)  
><span>Rating:<span> PG-13 for this chapter (PG-13 - NC-17)  
><span>Summary:<span>A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

**Author's Notes**  
>This is the second half of Part 11. This is also my little nod to Born This Way because although it was almost IMPOSSIBLE to include so much of it due to the storyline, little elements and one particular song were too perfect to pass up. I think this might have been one of my favourite chapters to write. There are a few little moments I am so pleased I got the chance to write.<br>Thank you once again, and as always to the ever so lovely **ccmskatechick**/Kerry for polishing this up for me and the forever fabulous LTB ladies.

**There's an added graphic again**- people DID worry that even though they're together in person, the premise of the story would be forgotten. NO WAY! They met each other, got to know each other and opened up through writing to one another - that is never going to change and it is always going to be used :)

**FYI: **There is still Chapter 12 and the LONG Two Part Epilogue to come :)  
><strong><br>****[TO SEE THE GRAPHIC – PLEASE FOLLOW THE LINK IN MY PROFILE. AS ALWAYS, IT DOES ADD TO THE STORY SO PLEASE GO SEE! You don't need an LJ to view it.]**

* * *

><p>This time when Kurt woke up, his neck felt stiff. A beam of light from what he presumed to be a window, streamed onto his face, stinging his eyes. He had to stop the 'falling asleep in strange places' thing.<p>

A shuffle and a small muffled noise sounded from somewhere so Kurt blinked awake, rubbing at his eyes. Blaine's arm fell into view where it was draped around him, Blaine's head lolling back onto the raised side of the couch and legs straight down the center. Kurt knew, from the position, that the creak in his neck was due to the fact his head had been pillowed on Blaine's chest for... well, it was morning so that meant it had been quite a while.

He was wrapped in clinging arms. Blaine wasn't just lying there, he had hold of Kurt and didn't seem to be in any state to let go.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, biting his lip to stop from laughing. It was a mixture of sheer joy and exultation really, not to mention it masked his underlying current of nerves perfectly. Blaine just groaned, rolling to his side and effectively trapping Kurt against the cushions. "_Blaine,_" he hissed, pushing them out of the awkward positioning a little. "I'll make some pancakes for you if you wake up."

"Not fair," Blaine murmured into his hair, voice scratchy with sleep.

He clambered up, all sense of elegance and grace lost to the necessity for food and steady breaths – Blaine's fingers holding tight to his hip had done absolutely nothing to allow coherency. Blaine came round with heavy eyes. He was so wonderfully languid and cuddly in his movement. "What ingredients do you have?"

Blaine could just about decipher Kurt's figure as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"My mom will have fruit in the refrigerator if you'd like to use it, but can I put my own order in?" He attempted a serene smile but he knew, deep down, that the delivery was all wrong because Kurt narrowed his eyes and then rolled them.

They may not have spent an extensive of time together, but Blaine knew that was _the _look Kurt had talked about, the same look that said 'don't even think about it'. He watched Kurt smirk.

The expression on Blaine's face was nothing short of child-like with his scarecrow hair and crumpled t-shirt. It felt too long since he'd looked like his preppy self but Kurt didn't miss it – not really – because this Blaine, the Blaine he'd grown to know was someone that Kurt imagined only a few people had witnessed.

Kurt wondered if he was the only one.

Swallowing down a bout of giddiness, Kurt took a breath. "Is this one of those moments where we learn more about one another?"

"Maybe," Blaine grinned as he climbed off the couch and by-passed Kurt to go into the kitchen. "Come through and I can help. I'm good at following orders."

Kurt spat out a laugh. "You can watch."

* * *

><p>Kurt looked so amazing. His hands moved expertly, flicking a wrist as he cracked an egg or whisking at super speed.<p>

Blaine thought back to his past teenage fantasies. There'd been an inevitable mix of sweet and dirty but there had also been a fair helping of domesticity too. Being labelled promiscuous due to your sexuality wasn't acceptable, the world presuming you couldn't fit into stereotypical norms when it came to families and relationships was ludicrous and it made Blaine angry. He wanted a home and a family just as much as anyone else usually did but, of course, he knew he'd come across people who'd say that it wasn't the accepted archetype.

Screw archetypes.

He wasn't pushing his luck and letting his pulsing heartbeat dictate his realistic core so that his friendship and relationship with Kurt suddenly became the romance of the century. It was all so new and exciting, so _clearly_ it was bound to consume every thought but Blaine rested his chin on his hand and kept his eyes on Kurt's every move. If growing older with someone and sharing lives was similar to watching Kurt command a kitchen and smile to himself when he did something clever, Blaine knew that all of the gossips and haters were wrong. He _could _have all of this and he _wanted it._

"Do you want to toss them?" Kurt laughed, snapping his fingers in Blaine's face and dragging him out of his daydream.

"Yes, I do. I really do. You're done already?" Kurt flashed him look which clearly said '_of course, what do you take me for_?' Taking the space in front of cooker beside Kurt, Blaine watched his every move.

"Ok, here's the spatula. Now, when the heat's just right and the bubbles begin to rise, just squash them to release the air... yes, just like that, and now ease up the edges gently. _Gently, Blaine_. Ok, now ease the spatula under until you have it balanced and flip. _Perfect_. Now wait until this side is brown and it's ready to toss."

Kurt stood back, his hands guarding his face. He was smiling, though.

"I am not _that _bad, Kurt. I can flip a pancake."

"I don't trust anyone other than _myself_ in the kitchen so don't mind me."

"After three?"

Kurt groaned dramatically. "Just flip the damn pancake, Blaine. We're not waiting for a rocket launch."

"One... two... three!"

It flipped badly, half curling underneath and instantly bonding until even a quick rescue attempt by Kurt didn't manage to save it. Blaine began to laugh, giggling more when he caught the indignant look in Kurt's eyes and the rolling motion they made as he realised just how ruined it actually was.

"It's a good job you sing well and attend a school of academic excellence," Kurt drawled. He waited a moment before flashing a smirk and petting Blaine's arm affectionately. "Sit and daydream some more while I make an edible batch."

* * *

><p>After an hour of pancake eating and experimenting with various toppings, Kurt excused himself and returned after showering to make his way into Blaine's room. It was lucky that he'd packed a change of clothes so equipped with a dark blue silk scarf. He'd managed to jazz up his slate grey Maison Martin Margiela jeans. The knee high black leather boots were one of his most cherished fashion finds and as they were a real steal, he knew he'd always feel proud to wear them.<p>

Blaine was in his room, his back to the door as he checked what appeared to be his emails. "We have a gig on Monday evening at a local nursing home. Wes wants us all to preliminarily learn the words to a chosen list of old standards so we'll fall into the harmonies easily on Monday morning."

"We had a shoe thrown at us by a teacher at school when we tried to collect money by carol singing. It put us off public performances for life." Kurt said simply, perching on the edge of Blaine's bed.

Turning away from his laptop, Blaine caught Kurt's eye and smiled until he was momentarily distracted, eyes travelling down slowly and then back up. Kurt didn't know how to react. Usually a sweeping body check occurred before someone hurled abuse but the flicker in Blaine's eye was something completely new.

"I like your jeans," he said smoothly.

If Blaine was honest, it was all he could do to form a sentence so four words was quite the triumph.

"Thank you. They're Maison Martin Margiela. I found them at a fashion fair last Fall. Let's just pretend they're this season because they're beautiful and I can't bear to think they may hear me. If you treat fashion well, it takes care of you."

"I'm sadly nowhere near as stylish as you are. I like dark colours mainly as it's safer but when I feel in the mood, I have some favourite outfits."

Kurt clapped his hands together. "Show me! This sort of thing is like crack to me."

Gingerly and with a fond smile, Blaine eased open his closet and allowed Kurt the privilege of being the first person to see it. The whole moment felt strangely intimate.

"Oh wow. You weren't wrong about the dark colours," Kurt said, after a few moments of browsing, "but there is a lot to be said about a signature colour. It defines a person. I'm not quite sure," he hummed, looking Blaine up and down then finally into his eyes, "that black and dark colours suit your personality as a singular statement. There are some gorgeous colours in here, Blaine. _This _is exquisite; it's so bright and simple." He held up a bright red fitted cardigan trimmed in white. "This is also beautiful. The material is to die for." This time it was a deep blue shirt trimmed with a paler blue stitching along the seams.

"Mom bought that for me actually. The memories I have of wearing that shirt aren't the best, let's say."

Kurt carefully put the closet back in order and turned to Blaine whose eyes were dark.

"You should wear reds and browns for the winter and bright colours for the summer but you are right, your skin tone looks devastating in deeper shades. Maybe it's your hair," Kurt mused. He reached out as he spoke, fingers smoothing down Blaine's crinkled t-shirt. "You, um, I could..." He trailed off.

"What? You don't need to censor yourself. It's nice hearing you so passionate about things."

Kurt knew his heart was beating wildly from the aching closeness of the moment but Blaine looked so small and momentarily shrunken – it didn't suit him.

"Tell me if I'm over-stepping but I could pick out an outfit for you," he tried with a careful smile. "Free of charge, of course, but believe me, I _should_ charge." Blaine's heart swelled in his chest just at the sight of the suppressed excitement in Kurt's eyes. He _wanted _to do it; he _wanted _to be so involved.

"Ok, but I'll have to shower first."

As Blaine gathered a towel and his wash bag, he glanced back to Kurt who had cocked his hip and was staring into his closet, fingers dramatically resting at his jaw. He looked _so _at home that something tugged inside Blaine's chest – the reality was the Kurt had to leave at some point.

* * *

><p>"This cardigan is divine," Kurt cooed, standing on the door step.<p>

The buttons were shiny black and chunky against the brown wool, so taut and well formed. The lapels were large and over turned, which made the piece feel much more striking than it otherwise would have. In it, Blaine looked dashing, comfortable and ever the potential film star. Kurt wanted to swoon.

He'd always wished that he'd find someone to be close enough to and, eventually, someone who would let him intrude on their fashion choices. He knew that some people were protective over their personal grooming – he knew all too well about that mentality – but, Kurt knew his own standards and exceptional taste. He'd always wanted someone to dress and fuss over. Most people definitely didn't see that as a positive thing, possibly presuming that Kurt considered _their _choices to be wrong but really, he knew he'd only do it for people he cared for. It was an affectionate thing. Standing in front of Blaine _now, _felt special – Blaine allowed him without even so much as a second's hesitation.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," Kurt said eventually, tearing his eyes away from the intricacies of the knitting.

He didn't _want _to leave. He didn't want Blaine to be alone in such a huge house when _he _could be there to keep him company until his parents arrived home. Kurt knew that his home would be bustling and full of well meaning dysfunction and Finn's incessant drumming. Blaine's face was solid, no emotions getting through anymore and it hurt to see. He deserved much more than being so disappointed all of the time. Kurt knew exactly how that felt.

"You're thanking _me_?"

Kurt hugged his sweater to himself. "Yes."

Nerves prickled his skin. There was surely a protocol for 'the morning after kissing your best friend' but Kurt had definitely missed the memo because he was clueless. He _wanted _to – he wanted to remember that it felt like to have Blaine's lips against his own – but it was daylight outside and a brand new scary day.

"Kurt, you really don't need to thank me. You saved me from a night alone with a fictional robot for company."

"_You _let me cook and gave me rights to your closet. Believe me, I should be thanking _you._"

"Ok," Blaine laughed, leaning against the open door, "we'll have to agree to disagree." There was _that smile, _the one that caused his eyes to crinkle.

"Well, I should go. My dad will be wondering why Mercedes' parents haven't chucked me out yet and I don't want to risk upsetting him."

Blaine suddenly looked nervous. "Would you text me to let me know you got home safely?" Kurt nodded, almost bashfully. "I guess we'll see each other, then."

"Of course," Kurt rushed. He was floundering – _they _were floundering.

Blaine wanted to drag Kurt inside, close the door and beg him to stay forever. He wanted to talk and say everything he felt inside like '_you're amazing', 'I miss you already and you haven't even left yet', 'I want to spend time with you every single day' _ but most of all, he wanted something certain. It all felt translucent, like the night had been a fleeting dream crammed with fulfilled wishes. It was all verging on something firm and solid but he didn't want to scare Kurt away – Blaine gripped the door handle tightly – because he had no idea how to say '_I think I need you'_.

"I..." He couldn't find the right words. During the week, he was capable of commanding an entire room of egotistical Warbler guys but, standing in front of Kurt, he didn't have the correct words and the chances of saying something ridiculous were astronomical.

Kurt took a breath and closed the distance to wrap his arms around Blaine's neck. He didn't care about anything other than feeling the way he had since he arrived on Blaine's doorstep. If he was ever going to get what he sincerely wished for, Kurt knew the trick was to push through the fear and always _try._

Blaine sighed happily, his arms draping around Kurt's waist against the cold air. Kurt was warm and curved perfectly into the slope of his neck. Blaine felt his skin tingle as Kurt's soft words blew hot against his skin.

"I don't like saying goodbye to you."

Blaine squeezed him tight for a second before drawing Kurt back to arm's length and looking into his eyes; they were shining and saturated with a tangle of emotions. "So, don't say it."

"Ok."

"We just... I don't know."

"Come to McKinley on Wednesday. I'm rehearsing for my solo audition for Nationals and need some advice on staging. Most of the students will have gone by then and since nobody but the Glee Club uses the auditorium, we will have it to ourselves."

Blaine could feel himself grinning pathetically. "Am I to be your audience?"

"Blaine," Kurt scolded playfully, "you're the persistent lead on all of the Warbler's competitive performances. You're going to help me kick the collective asses of Rachel, Mercedes and Santana. There's a reason I'm starting rehearsals early."

"I'll be there," Blaine smiled. Kurt looked adorable; it was obvious it would never get old seeing Kurt all lit up and Blaine allowed himself, just for a moment, to wonder if he was part of the reason for that.

"I'll text you." Kurt was retreating a little, ready to walk away.

"Kurt, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm making this all up as I go along." Blaine just said it. They'd talked about their honesty and how important it was so Blaine held his breath and hoped to god that fact still stood. Watching the carousel of Kurt's reaction was terrifying.

"Me too." Blaine let out his breath.

"Good, because I don't want to screw this up. I know last night was... well, it was _huge _for me and I don't want you to think too much about it and worry it was a one off or a product of the circumstances, you know, two people alone in a big empty house. That wasn't the case at all."

Kurt nodded, eyes a little watery. Words somehow didn't seem to be enough.

Blaine sighed out roughly as if to lose any inhibitions.

Kurt tried to map the changing depth of Blaine's eyes, the way he seemed to be so affected by his inner monologue. He was still so close, only a few inches away and smelled clean from his shower, all lemons and soap, but there was that definite scent there, the one Kurt couldn't quite stop thinking about. After years of _feeling _things for guys, it all made so much sense now. He'd acted on it and it had been every bit as mind blowing as he'd expected – and more.

With a split-second smirk, Blaine leaned in and kissed him, dizzying. Kurt felt his spine tingle and shudder as a hand snaked to the small of his back, holding him there secure and still. He kissed back, praying it made Blaine feel exactly how he did inside: bowled over, stunned, grateful, frightened, important and alive. The softness of Blaine's lips dipped a little lower, Kurt's hands clenching into fists by his side before reaching to clutch at Blaine's chest, bunching up his sweater in the process. He was _so consuming. _Nothing had ever felt so intense before. Kurt knew he was breathing erratically - heart booming, throat thickening, head reeling, palms sweating – but it didn't matter because Blaine's breaths were short and sharp between kisses, the frantic and almost unnoticeable gasps hitting his cheeks and deepening the blush there.

"I promised to tell you something," Blaine breathed out, stuttering a little over the syllables.

Kurt's eyes still weren't open; he took a steadying second before opening them and looking into Blaine's eyes directly. "Oh, really?" He bit his lip, enjoying the amused huff of a laugh Blaine made in response.

"Yes." Running his hand down Kurt's side, a flicker of nerves behind his eyes, Blaine let it rest at Kurt's hand where he loosely threaded his fingers. "We've already established how terrible I am at all of this but I just want you to really know how much this means-"

"Blaine-"

"No, Kurt, just listen because I'm saying it regardless." He gave his mind a moment to gather its thoughts before continuing. "I just never thought I would do _this. _I don't want to scare you off because I know I can be kind of intense and that's the _last thing _I ever intend. I just feel a lot and want a lot and often do things before really thinking them over. I really just want you to _know _how last night made me feel because honesty is our thing isn't it?"

Kurt knew he was going to cry. Blaine was so sincere and bare. It wasn't something he did often – that much was obvious – but he was trying and the almost stunned shine to his eyes spoke loudly of his faith in their connection. He was willing to put it all out there and just risk it in order to keep their feelings safe. Not many seventeen year olds thought like that but, yet again, not many had suffered so much emotional whiplash as Kurt knew they both had done in the past.

"I think we're ok," Kurt whispered. It certainly felt that way.

"I think so too. I just needed to make sure that we were on the same page, excuse the pun," Kurt leaned forward, his head resting against Blaine's chest without thinking. He laughed softly. "Things moved pretty fast, didn't they?"

"Blaine," Kurt eased, "you don't need to worry. I think we both just need some practice. It's still a little too huge and brand new."

"Kurt, I _like you."_

"I like you too."

"Ok. Wow," Blaine chuckled nervously, rubbing gently over Kurt's fingers. He squirmed a little as his skin tingled.

"_Thank you._" This time Kurt urged it, looking Blaine directly in the eye and moving closer. As Blaine's face blurred, the contours of his face melting perfectly into a haze as he pressed a simple kiss against Blaine's cheek.

Drawing back and with a knowing smile Kurt nodded and squeezed Blaine's hand back. He stepped away, eyes unmoving, until he reached the end of the drive. Neither said a word until Kurt climbed in his car and drove away.

* * *

><p>Blaine made his way back inside, regretfully closing the door and placing a barrier between himself and Kurt. He still had an evening to himself but it was ok – he had a show to prep for and an evening full of Kurt and music on Wednesday. Life was definitely looking up.<p>

As he reached his room, he breathed in deep, smiling at Kurt's lingering scent. Closing his eyes and feeling ever the teenager, Blaine tried to remember it, hoping it wouldn't fade too quickly. As he opened his eyes, they caught an unfamiliar addition to his pin board.

As Blaine read, he felt that warm ache in his stomach that made it extremely difficult to think straight. He really and truly was in trouble.

**[MISSING GRAPHIC - SEE THE LINK IN MY PROFILE TO GO TO LJ]**

* * *

><p><em>Are we still on for tonight? B xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx<em>

**Yes! Meet me at McKinley at 6? I know we said 5 but we've got this Glee Club thing and I don't think you're ready to meet them. Not in their collective glory. It's too much for one normal human being to handle without prior briefing. That ok? xxxx**

_That's fine. Where do I go when I get to your school? Will you be meeting me outside? B xxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**Just follow the signs to 'the auditorium'. I'm sending you a text with directions. I'll be in there prepping the stage for my rehearsals because, knowing Mr Schuester, we'll spend too much time afterwards talking about what we learned from our performance. Kurt xxxx**

_No problem. I'll see you then. I got my homework done last night so I'm all yours. B xxxxxx_

**Stop it. You're making me blush and Rachel is frowning at me. **

_I can't wait to see you! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**Stop it.**

_I pretty much thought about tonight non-stop ever since you left my house on Sunday xxxxxxxxx_

**Go be a serious Dalton student. Don't you have, like, lacrosse to play or something?**

_Even your sarcasm is cute, you know that? xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**BLAINE. **

_I'll stop. xxxxxxxxxx_

**Good. See you tonight xx**

_I meant it all though... you know that, right? xxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**BLAINE!**

* * *

><p><strong>SORRY! I was at lunch with Rachel and Mercedes and they were both forcing me to indulge in lady chats. I'm all for it normally but not when it comes to the more private things. I didn't get the chance to send your directions. Come into the main entrance. Turn right at the 'Titans Rule' graffiti. Walk until you come to the trophy cabinet. Laugh at their lack of trophies. Mock them silently. Turn right until you see a sign for the choir room. Have a peek inside. That's where I spend most of my time. Keep walking until you come to a long line of lockers. Mine's number 58. Keep walking until you see signs for the auditorium. I'll be the one in the interesting t-shirt. Kurt xxxxxxxx<strong>

* * *

><p>"Um, can I help you?" A musical voice came from behind causing Blaine to turn immediately. A slim woman in an intricately patterned dress and cardigan smiled at him sweetly, her head cocked to the side. "Are you lost?"<p>

"No, well not really. I'm here to meet someone but it seems his directions aren't that clear. I'm trying to find the auditorium. Do you work here?"

"Yes," she gasped, her eyes saucer wide, "yes, I'm the school's guidance counsellor. What's your name?"

"Blaine. It's nice to meet you." He held out his hand, frowning when she outstretched her tiny fingers and tapped his wrist once, withdrawing quickly.

"It's very nice to meet you... Blaine. Who are you meeting, if I may ask?"

"Kurt Hummel," he said simply. She blinked a couple of times before seeming to smile to herself. "Do you know him?"

"I do. Kurt's a member of our successful Glee Club here. He's a lovely young man." As she spoke, her hands were clasped in front her, fingers toying with each other. She seemed sweet and then it hit him... she was the one who'd encouraged Kurt to write to him. She was _the _guidance counsellor, the one responsible for the fact he had Kurt in his life at all.

"Can I ask you something?" He had no idea what he was doing, or if it was appropriate but, then again, the teachers at Dalton were formal during lesson time but allowed the students to run their own extracurricular activities so involvement wasn't really the norm. It was a risk he was willing to take because, from what Kurt had explained, McKinley truly wasn't like Dalton at all.

"Yes, of course." She smiled brightly. It seemed she liked that particular question.

"Did you suggest that Kurt join a PFLAG writing scheme back at the beginning of the year?"

Her eyes widened even further – if that was possible – and she stepped back with another gasp. "I did! Did he join? How do you know about that?"

Grinning to himself and unable to control it, Blaine signalled to himself. "I'm the person he wrote to."

"Oh! I'm so happy that he took advantage of such a wonderful opportunity. So," she hesitated, obviously used to addressing sensitive subjects, "did you both become friends?" There was the snag. Ever since _that _night, Kurt's name, the thought of Kurt, Kurt's texts and basically anything that vaguely reminded him of one Kurt Hummel seemed to send his heart into a whirlwind and always planted a woozy grin on his face. It seemed that it was entirely inevitable. "Oh! I see!" She gasped again. "Well, I'll show you the auditorium." Her smile was so shiny it almost blinded him.

The click of her heels was sharp and precise, her steps so careful as they rounded the colourful corridors. McKinley was certainly different. There weren't any stone statues, the stuff outside that looked like it had been grass now resembled a scorched yellow stretch of dirt and one of the signs outside proclaimed 'McLoserville'. It was intimidating and smelled exactly as he remembered public school to smell: sweat, new books, erasers and cafeteria food.

"Here we are," she said with a small flourish. A tiny golden plate proclaimed that they were entering the "April Rhodes Auditorium". Whoever April Rhodes was, Blaine was sure that she had more money than sense.

"Thank you for your help."

As he went to pull the handle of the door, she ducked her head and swallowed gently. "I'm happy you found a friend in Kurt. He had a tough year and I know the kids in Glee work so hard and get little respect in return but they love what they do. I saw that when I took them to Sectionals once. There were so many other kids out there just like them and they couldn't quite believe it. It's nice that Kurt has found you. Do you sing?"

"I'm the lead in one of the New Directions' competing Glee Clubs." He couldn't help but stand proud.

"My, isn't it a small world. He's lucky to have someone who shares his interests. He's a wonderful performer. Anyway, I don't want to make you late. I saw most of the Glee Club leave before as they were rehearsing a new Lady GaGa number and I watched for a while. It was... a special moment. I'm sure Kurt will tell you all about it."

Blaine nodded, thanking her and watched her grinning all the way back the way they'd come.

The auditorium was enormous for a school seemingly against the arts in a big way. He spotted Kurt on stage manoeuvring a large wooden painted tree to stage right. The set was beautiful; rolling blue waves extended the length of the stage with a beaming sun suspended from the rafters. The colours were bold but serene, painting the most magical picture. Blaine felt the excitement bubble inside.

He hadn't heard Kurt sing before. Yes, they'd seen each other _perform _but Kurt was always blended so intensely by the other members of the New Directions but this time he'd be solo – completely alone on stage.

He looked happy in his organisation. Blaine coughed, allowing himself to smile and rest into the moment. He had a long evening ahead filled with Kurt and music. Perfection.

"Blaine!"

As Kurt turned, there were no adjectives to describe the sheer _feelings _pooling low in his stomach. Blaine swallowed hard as he read the large printed words displayed proudly across Kurt's chest – _'Likes Boys'._

"Um..."

He couldn't speak. Kurt's hair was mussed, styled into something so _different _ that Kurt had an unique air about him, full of confidence and way more swagger than he usually embodied. He looked _hot. _More than hot – gorgeous.

There was a distinct lack of layers; his legs looked expansive, long and strong as he moved around the stage. His entire body shape was on show, every curve and smooth plane of muscle so obvious that Blaine knew he was staring... or was he drooling?

Kurt frowned until the penny dropped. "Oh!" he gasped, smiling sarcastically, "Mr Schue's big idea. We taught him about GaGa and ever since, he's had a bit of a crush on her. Apparently, she teaches the best lessons. This week... Born This Way. The thing that troubles us about ourselves that we can't change because we're born that way."

Blaine chewed his lip, resting against a theatre seat. "It bothers you?"

"Not _bothers _as such but it has caused me years of confusion and plenty of sleepless nights so, yes, I suppose I did used to be ashamed of it or else I'd have screamed it from the rooftops. I'm very much proud of who I am now though, hence the emblazoned black letters." Kurt winked – _actually winked_ – and went back to sorting the stage. He seemed to be plugging in a music player.

"So, I just met your guidance counsellor."

Kurt stopped, flipping around with huge and stricken eyes.

"Oh good god, what did she say. Whatever it was, it's a lie."

"Nothing," Blaine teased. He could see Kurt's dawning realisation. "I just thanked her for a little suggestion she made to you all of those months back. That's all."

"Oh." Kurt's blush was visible from the front row.

"So, am I going to be entertained?"

Flourishing his hands, Kurt smiled. "All in good time, Blaine Warbler. Just sit there and I'll clear this table away."

As Kurt began to change quickly backstage, Blaine called out so their conversation could last a little longer. "So, which song did you choose in the end?"

"As If We Never Said Goodbye," Kurt sang back, "originated by Ms LuPone. It was a no brainer, really." Blaine sat back just as the lights dimmed. Kurt was dramatic – this was an undisputable fact – but something about the staging seemed much more understated and poetic. "Rachel always says 'let me know if I was fantastic or simply outstanding'. Let's go with that, ok?"

Blaine laughed, rolling his eyes and squashing the need to jump on stage and crush Kurt in the tightest hug. Dressed in _that _t-shirt, it would have been... unwise. That was quite the understatement.

The music began softly, violins lilting and melodic. In a second though, Blaine felt his heart stop. Kurt stepped into the spotlight, arms resting easily at his sides, intimating with the odd word but his _voice..._

It was clear as a bell, strong when it needed to be, gentle at the most poignant moments but so heart achingly passionate. He wasn't Kurt anymore. In the spotlight and only a matter of feet away, Kurt was someone else altogether. His eyes were still the essence of him, sparkling in the glow of the stage lamps, but the rest of him screamed '_performer_', so poised and fused with energy.

He was magnificent.

Blaine knew he was talented. He hadn't been blessed with solo after solo for nothing but Kurt blew him away more than anyone he'd heard in a long time. It was all so unrelated to the feelings he had because nobody in their right mind could dispute that Kurt had _something. _That _something_ saw him belt out a killer note, arms out wide and chest solid as the note ended.

The miracle was found in the vulnerability. Every word was couched in it, laced with such a powerful meaning that Blaine barely knew where he was. He was swept up with Kurt, soaring with every note and so enchanted with the passion of every single lyric.

It was a song about belonging. Every word was full of positivity and gratitude. Kurt had single handedly changed out of a slogan t-shirt declaring the sexuality he'd struggled with into singing a Broadway classic originated by a woman based on the notion that he was finally finding his place in life.

Everything about it was far too overwhelming and watching Kurt's fingers shake with the final note left Blaine speechless.

As the music came to a sweeping end, Kurt's eyes zeroed in on Blaine's.

"What did you think?"

Blaine wasn't _thinking_. He didn't know how to put it into words. Kurt was... he was...

"That was beautiful. _You're_ beautiful."

Kurt stood still, rooted to the spot and kept his eyes on Blaine in the front row of _his_ auditorium, the same one that was surrounded by the school that had caused him so much pain. He knew, in that moment, that the feelings coursing through his body, running over his skin and prickling at his eyes meant only one thing.

_He loved Blaine Anderson._

Ms Pillsbury was getting the world's most enormous bouquet of roses.


	17. A New Direction

Title: Wild Horses (12A/12)  
><span>Word Count<span>: ~6,000  
><span>Warnings:<span> AU (using as much canon as possible but a little out of order)  
><span>Rating:<span> PG-13 for this chapter (PG-13 - NC-17)  
><span>Summary:<span>A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

**Author's Notes**  
>This is the first half of Part 12 - both halves are VERY different but I've had both of them planned from the beginning so I hope you like them!<p>

Thank you so so much to the ever lovely **whenidance** and **ccmskatechick** for being fabulous betas and as always, the forever fabulous LTB ladies.  
>A BIG THANK YOU to everyone who has been so exceptionally sweet about this story.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for last night. I had such a nice time. Kurt xxx<strong>

_You're welcome. I miss you though. B xxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**I might have a proposition for you. Xxx**

_Well there's a text guaranteed to make sure I don't concentrate at all in Latin. B xxx (and we both know how much I love Latin)_

**Head out of the gutter, honey. I was simply going to ask you if you'd like to come to our Night of Neglect evening at McKinley. It'll be a car crash but it might be time you met the New Directions xx**

_I might be washing my hair, in that case._

**I might take someone else as my date, then.**

_Oh this is a date? Oh well, that changes EVERYTHING. B xxxxxxxxxxx (have we had one of those yet?)_

**We're unconventional, Blaine. I think it works for us. You are a tease by the way. K xxx**

_It's a good thing you find me charming then, isn't it? B xxxxxxxxxx_

**Shut up, I'm very busy and important. I've wasted enough time on you now ;)**

_Of course I'll come! B xxxxxxxxx_

**Meet me at McKinley tomorrow evening – 6pm?**

_I can't wait to see you!_

**Same xxx**

_I was thinking about you last night. Well, I think about you all of the time but I thought about how amazing Summer is going to be. B xxxxxxx : )_

**Uninterrupted Kurt time. Lucky You! **

_Exactly. I might not survive to see senior year ;) 3_

**You're such a sap.**

_I did warn you a long time ago. _

**It's my own fault for secretly finding your less than fortunate qualities so endearing...**

_We can't all be perfect like you._

**That's so true.**

_Hahahaha. You make me smile. I'm in Math and I'm SMILING._

**You're cute. Just pretend you find angle equations so very exciting.**

_Did I mention that I miss you?_

**You may have...**

_Well, I do. Can I be really honest with you?_

**Always.**

_I don't think I've ever felt so happy as I do nowadays. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**Blaine, I'm in Home Ec and I just almost scalded myself. Mrs Hadberg just scowled at me.**

**But... ditto. So much. I may have doodles in my French folder dedicated to you. Believe me, I wouldn't admit that for just anyone. Xxx**

_Math just got a whole lot better 3_

**I think that appearing on your doorstep that evening was a particularly clever idea of mine.**

_I think it was one of the best decisions you've ever made. I'm biased though._

**May you always remain that way.**

_On that note – I might be heading for my first detention since arriving at Dalton. Mr Trevelyan does not look happy. SO WORT_

**Blaine?**

**Oh my god you had your phone confiscated didn't you?**

**Dear Blaine's teacher/Mr Trevelyan, Blaine's a wonderful student. He truly is happy about studying your thrilling subject. Please allow him to show his dedication and please consider sparing him any time in detention as he has a particular engagement this week and I'd very much like him to attend as he's exceptionally special to me. Faithfully, Kurt Hummel**

_You're adorable._

**Blaine! What the hell?**

_I just had to pocket my phone. _

_So I'm special, am I?_

**Shut up and I'll see you tomorrow. 3**

* * *

><p>"Hummel! Yo, Hummel, who's the dude?"<p>

Kurt stopped still, hands in fists by his hips. Blaine took a breath and glanced at him. Kurt whispered, almost hissing. "Just remember, these people are idiots but they're well meaning idiots," he frowned to himself, "for the most part. Remember that many of them stood up for me. Also remember that some of them used to throw me in dumpsters. Remind yourself of their ridiculous incestuous relationships and their dysfunctional lives. Also remember everything I ever told you about them and please," Blaine noted the almost frantic look in Kurt's eyes, "_Please, _whatever you do, never leave my sight."

Nodding, Blaine bit back a smile and followed as Kurt turned to face the onslaught.

He'd arrived at McKinley early, preparing himself for the evening ahead and so far so good.

Noah Puckerman. Blaine had seen him previously at their show heats and knew how imposing he seemed but these were Kurt's friends and it was important to make an effort.

"Noah Puckerman, this is Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is Puck."

Puck nodded in his direction and wrinkled in his nose. It seemed like a 'bro' smirk, one that Jeff often flashed him when Blaine said something funny. He smiled and watched as Kurt huffed out a sigh. "Have you seen Mercedes, she disappeared and I need to fit her hair piece?"

Puck frowned. "I saw Berry run off with her and Lauren so, yea, maybe she's with them."

"Great, now I'll have to deal with both divas at once."

"Yo, dude, we've totally got this under control. Chill out."

Kurt shot Puck a look of utter disdain, death imminent. Blaine chuckled softly.

"I'm going to try to call her."

"Anyway, who _are _you?" Puck asked as Kurt dialled anxiously.

"I'm, um..."

How did he answer that? He was Kurt's friend. That was a given. He was surely _more _now but it was difficult when everything was so brand new and undefined. In a way, it felt good that what they had hadn't been formalised into a label of some kind because they both knew the danger of _that. _Blaine knew they'd have to get around to it at some point though.

He hoped the label they gave themselves would be lasting.

"You're 'um'?"

Blaine frowned briefly but remembered Kurt's words – "idiots". He wasn't one to judge but they didn't really help themselves. They were such _characters _and each so terrifyingly different that it made it exhausting having to adapt. The night was going to deathly long.

"I'm Kurt's friend."

"Oh, I see," Puck said, letting his words run on suggestively, "so you're his boy toy then? Hummel's finally found himself a dude. Good on him."

"Well, I, um-"

"Noah!" Blaine blinked. The voice was shrill.

Puck screwed up his face in Blaine's direction. It felt as though they were sharing a moment to themselves. "Berry incoming. Just smile and let her talk. She shuts up quicker. Either that or stick the lips on her. That seems to work." He looked sincere. He _was _sincere. Blaine found himself close to laughing but a quick glance at Kurt talking in hushed tones at the edge of the corridor made him exceedingly aware that he had to show him support. "Oh yea, and don't mention that Streisand chick. Not if you wanna be out of here before midnight. She's got some sort of lesbian crush on her or something, which, yea, cool thoughts but not when she screeches and she does. All. The. Time."

"Noah. We need you to push the piano!" She appeared around the corner, short floaty black dress and pumps that clicked as she walked. Her hair was long and bouncing around her shoulders with every purposeful step.

Her eyes zeroed in on him instantly. Kurt's every comment about the infamous Rachel Berry swam in his mind, as did Kurt's affectionate deflections about their friendship.

"Who is this?"

Puck looked smug. "_This _is Kurt's bit on the side."

Her eyes widened, lips pouting in an 'oh'. After a moment, her eyes intensified and she poked a tiny finger in the air. "You!" she gasped, "you're the lead singer of the Warblers! You're Kurt's friend! Well," he threw her hands to her hips and shook her head, "he failed to mention _you! _Not because you're not important obviously, but he's an extremely private person. He's preparing himself for his future career. Most performers earn much more respect by retaining a private life out of the spotlight."

Blaine's head hurt. She was wonderfully vibrant and clearly her reputation preceded her but the sparkle in her eyes seemed too permanent and it made so much sense as to why someone so spirited and effervescent would capture Kurt's imagination and a piece of his careful heart.

"Yes, that's me_," _he said simply, in an attempt to spare the drama.

"I must say," Rachel pursed her lips, "the arrangement you performed at Regionals was quite inspired but obviously not creative enough to beat us. You should be proud of yourselves though. We were quite a tough act to beat." He'd prepared himself so her condescension didn't come as a shock; her soft smile did though. "You do perform very well. I understand the pressure placed upon those who lead their Glee Clubs. It's a curse we must bear though, right? It's our passion."

She seemed to have made her mind up about him in a heartbeat. "It is a lot of pressure to lead a club in a competition, that's true. I find that we work well as a team though, so I feel well supported and I know that the other guys will back me up. The performance is _nothing _without them."

Her eyes flickered dramatically. They turned from mutual camaraderie to scandalized then finally a well rehearsed mask of agreement. "Oh yes," she flashed a bright grin towards Puck who just rolled his eyes, "_**we**_ are a family so I understand."

"Problem solved," Kurt called, returning to Blaine's side. He seemed to be scanning the scene, checking for battle scars or a frown on Blaine's forehead. When he appeared to be satisfied that all was well, Blaine watched him reach out to Rachel.

"What is _this?" _he groaned, his fingers dragging the hem of her cardigan. It was a rather garish shade of mustard with white bows.

She stuttered, eyes suddenly wet. "It's my new cardigan, I got it-"

"You got it from a store that should be closed for a crime to fashion, Rachel," Kurt snapped. Blaine could barely keep up. Rachel's ability to alter her emotions rapidly was dizzying and Kurt wasn't at all phased by it; if anything, Kurt moved around Rachel comfortably, responding to her dramatics with surprising ease. It was commendable.

"But, I thought the color-"

"Washes you out? Drowns your natural and beautiful skin color? Takes away from the colour of your eyes? If you thought _those _things then you'd be right. As for it being a good fashion choice," he mused, glancing at Puck who was smirking and enjoying the situation very much it seemed, "well, I'd use this for a wash rag. The dress is spectacular though."

Blaine was astounded. Rachel had looked hurt, eyes wide, doe and mere seconds from bursting into tears but at Kurt's praise, she brightened considerably and allowed Kurt to remove the cardigan without complaint.

"Thank you, Kurt," she sang, reaching up to pat his silver bow tie affectionately. "This is very cute, by the way. Blaine, it was very nice to meet you. We should talk about the woes of being the star of a successful Glee Club sometime unless we happen to face you next year. Then, we'd be in competition so-"

"Thank you, Rachel," Kurt smiled enormously, fake and forceful. "Mercedes is in her car. Would you see if she's ok? She won't listen to me."

"Of course," Rachel smiled, patting Blaine's arm and looking put on. "_See_, Blaine. Off to the rescue." It was as if they had a bond, an instant bond that was unspoken and based upon interaction that had lasted less than five minutes – or clearly Rachel thought they did. Blaine looked at Kurt, eyes pleading.

"Well, Blaine and I will go take our seats in the auditorium."

As they walked away, Kurt began to laugh softly. "What?" Blaine asked incredulously, "you _left _me there. I distinctly remember you telling me I should stick by your side."

"Your face," Kurt giggled, nudging his shoulder to Blaine with a smirk. "Anyway, come on, I'm not performing since I was never going to get the opening spot so we can sit in the auditorium and catch up."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Rachel's solo was breath-taking. Kurt was so right about her incredible ability to sing Barbra-famous songs and 'My Man' was no exception. Her emotions were palpable, ebbing from her with every jaw dropping note, so much so that Blaine could feel Kurt's fingers digging into his arm, clinging tight and tightening with every belting and souring moment.

The auditorium was empty – something about someone's twitter followers and a crack house but Blaine didn't dare ask. The only other people in there seemed to be a random mix of misfits and they definitely weren't there by choice.

Blaine had been performing his entire life and he knew the necessity for constructive criticism and pointers for improvement – not that he usually got any – but it seemed that the people of McKinley High were plain rude. One older gentleman with a heinous pair of pink chinos found his amusement in shouting obscenities at the stage.

Blaine groaned.

"You ok?" Kurt asked, turning in the near darkness.

"Who _is _that guy?"

"Oh," Kurt frowned, "you remember the story I told you about the ex-Glee Club teacher turned marijuana dealer who tried to touch up the male tenor and got sacked?"

Blaine knew his eyes were gigantic in response.

Kurt couldn't help but find the evening numbing. He'd lived with the eccentricities of McKinley – which was putting is lightly – for a long time and, after a while, they became normality. He knew that was a worrying fact but it was the only way to avoid going mad. Surrounded by so much hatred and conflict, the Glee Club _were _his family and they'd grown to mean a lot to him regardless of their less than favourable traits. He wasn't so naive to think that everyone was able to impress you all of the time, which was the one reason he didn't allow himself to get too close but he was stuck there and coping mechanisms ensued.

Seeing the school from Blaine's fresh-faced perspective was enlightening. He seemed horrified.

"How is he still allowed _in here_?" Blaine asked, bewildered, "aren't there laws against him being around children what with the groping and drugs?"

Kurt shrugged. "Obviously not. It'll be Coach Sylvester. Anything bad generally is."

Blaine couldn't quite grasp what he was hearing. Kurt was so very blasé about the entire evening from the taunts being thrown at the performers on stage to the fact that Tina ran away crying. The poor girl had looked crushed and regardless of the fact that Blaine hadn't so much as spoken a word to her, he felt so bad for her confidence – she seemed shy.

A blonde lady was next. Kurt's hand was close to his, lying still on the arm rest. His profile was nothing short of breathtaking as her gazed serenely out over the empty seats, shoulders back and lips pressed together lightly.

The evening was bizarre to say the least, full of frustrating moments and a gratuitous helping of the mind boggling but Kurt was a statue of calm, so unaffected by it. He was a thing to behold. It washed over him like the tide riding over rocks – no part of him seemed to be jostled by the madness around him.

Blaine didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. Regardless, he looked stunning. The outfit was another of his classics and Blaine couldn't help reaching out to tug on the sleeves of his frilled white shirt.

"I like this," Blaine whispered. He needed Kurt to just look at him. Witnessing the horror and insanity that Kurt called home was an 'experience' but Blaine knew the real Kurt; he'd seen him shuddering and overwhelmed by touch, he'd him sniffling on the other end of a telephone and he'd watched him giggle, eyes sparkling with life.

The last thing Kurt deserved was to exist solely in a world where he felt the need to wear a facade. Kurt was far too expressive and dazzling for that.

Blaine watched Kurt's eyes flicker down to his sleeve, taking in Blaine's fingers, and then up to catch eyes. They were momentarily shocked, blinking a little, but turned soft quickly as his lips curved into a smile.

"Ten dollars on sale. I got it this weekend," he whispered, shuffling down in his seat.

"You should take me shopping sometime, if you'd like?"

It was as if Blaine had handed him a front row pass for New York Fashion Week. His eyes grew large and his lazy fingers gripped Blaine's arm. "Don't say those things unless you truly mean them. You saw me with Rachel earlier. I don't hold back."

Blaine laughed softly, still whispering as the blonde lady reached the climax of her song. "I think I know you well enough by now to know your honesty."

An odd shade of gratitude washed through Kurt's eyes. "Well then, you have yourself another date, Blaine Anderson."

"Oh really?"

Kurt looked away, eyes focusing on the stage but a small smirk teasing at his lips. "We're racking them up, aren't we?"

"Such a romantic."

Kurt chuckled to himself but didn't turn his head. Blaine watched his teeth catch his bottom lip, biting into a smile. "I told you. Touch of the fingertips."

Blaine's heart almost exploded. That's what it came down to with Kurt.

He kept things close and contained but inside, he was a jumble of emotions. It was obvious that he was a swooning romantic but sarcasm and quick wit kept people at bay. Every aspect of Kurt's personality came with a 'but' and regardless of how difficult it could be to wade through it sometimes, Blaine saw his walls crumbling piece by piece. His passion, anger, love, disappointment and all of the other feelings he embodied so vehemently were mangled together inside and he hadn't been granted the space to work through them, to find where one was supposed to lie dormant and where the other was supposed to rest happily.

It was no wonder that Kurt was tentative. Blaine knew all too well the feeling of holding back and wearing a mask but he'd learned to play in life, he'd found the safety of The Warblers where he'd been allowed to be himself and wasn't expected to spill his guts and deepest feelings.

The New Directions were a dysfunctional family of over sharers. It was terrifyingly honest and open. Blaine knew he'd never had a friend like that before – _until Kurt._

An intimidating guy in a Letterman jacket who Kurt had called Azimio began shouting as soon as Mike entered the stage. Blaine watched as Mike's face crumbled for a brief moment before his body took over and he started to dance.

The Azimio guy was disgusting. His taunts were personal and cutting, not to mention verging on racist. It was infuriating. Performing was supposed to be fulfilling and about sharing in creative spirit – that's what Wes had always said. Mike's dancing was pulsating and incredible. Nobody in their right mind would attack him.

Kurt's brow was knitted with frustration as he glared down momentarily.

"They're getting on my last nerve," Blaine hissed.

"Just ignore them. He's failing pretty much every class I share with him so he'll be sweeping our streets when we're older."

Blaine laughed darkly. "It would be deserved. How dare he put someone down for enjoying their talent?"

"Blaine," Kurt urged, turning to face him and placing a warm hand on his, "they're not worth it. If there's anything I've learned from my high school years, it is that very clear fact. Don't let them upset you."

Kurt was as sincere as he could be. Blaine looked wound tight, his jaw rigid.

It wasn't surprising that he'd have such a violent reaction to the injustice at McKinley High. Dalton, from what Kurt imagined, was a utopia of acceptance and preppy boys prancing in blazers. McKinley had taught Kurt much more than he had ever wished to know – how to wash your hair in school bathrooms, the art of the well constructed insult and how to sleep in bed to avoid your bruised back.

None of it was acceptable but it was a reality and Blaine simply didn't have to deal with that any longer. Kurt worried for a moment, Blaine's story flooding back into the forefront of his mind, and fell concerned that the evening may bring back memories – unwanted ones. Blaine deserved a happy utopia and not the daily disappointment of a school that was far too quick to let homophobia and allow a poisonous little collection of less than acceptable problems fester until they blew up and Figgins was forced to host an assembly about them.

It was laughable, really.

The very fact that Sandy Ryerson was sitting in the school auditorium was a glaring advert for McKinley's failings.

The intermission came quickly but Blaine appeared drained.

"Hey? Come on," Kurt offered with a smile, "you can meet Mike and Tina and a few of the others. I think you'll like them."

They made their way along the corridor to what Blaine recognised as the 'choir room' from Kurt's texted directions.

"Kurt! You're here!"

A blonde girl in high waisted shorts and a garishly pink t-shirt bounded over with a sparkling smile as they neared the door.

"Ahhh, Brittany Pierce, meet my friend Blaine."

Blaine took her in. She was pretty and wore a look of pure joy - t_his _girl he liked. She looked as if life was filled with fluffy bunny rabbits and shooting stars.

"It's nice to meet you, Brittany. Are you performing tonight?"

She grinned at him sweetly. "Yes, I'm dancing with Mike later. I don't think there's an audience but that doesn't matter, I just like to perform."

"That's the way I see it," Blaine said genuinely, to which she shrugged.

Turning to Kurt, she quirked her eyebrow playfully. "Is he a dolphin?"

Kurt closed his eyes for a second, a slow grin spreading. He nodded. "Yes, Brittany."

"Oh wow," she sang, rocking on her heels, "then you _have _to meet Santana."

Blaine could barely keep up with them. After a few moments, Brittany reappeared with a Latina girl in the tightest and most revealing red dress he'd ever seen. She was sultry and just the right side of scandalous.

"Who's this?" she gestured, long fingernail dragging the air as her perfectly preened eyebrow quirked at him.

Kurt cleared his throat and planted his glare. "_This _is my friend, Blaine. Blaine, this is Santana Lopez." Kurt's eyes were knowing, almost urging him in some way. Blaine wracked his brains for Kurt's Santana information but the only word he could remember was 'bitch'.

"Well, hello Blaine. So, _you're _the one Puck said was getting busy with Kurt," she drawled then turned to Kurt with a smug grin. "Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, I have to say I didn't think you had it in you. Auntie Tana's proud."

"Well, not that it's any of your business, _Santana_."

She tilted her head, shrugging off a pout. "Yeah well, he's hot. A little short but I don't know, maybe he makes up for it in other departments. You could have done a lot worse. So, I guess you're no longer the only gay in the village, right?"

Kurt's eyes were shooting daggers, sharp and deliberate. "Ok, why don't we go and meet Mike and Tina. Maybe Santana can learn some manners while we're gone."

"Oh manners, schmaners. I gots attitude, that's _all _I need," she called to their backs with a wicked grin. Something in Blaine liked her. He didn't mind being called hot and the height issue was a given but at least she spoke her mind and you know where you stood. Plus, he knew that look – the one she gave Brittany.

As they entered the choir room, a small crowd was gathered around a make-up area. They all looked up but soon returned to their outrage – apparently there was still a problem with Mercedes.

Kurt returned to his side with Mike. "Mike Chang, Blaine Anderson."

"Hey, it's nice to meet you," Mike smiled genuinely, holding out his hand. Nobody had so much as offered a _simple_ hello since he'd set foot on McKinley turf so Blaine eyed it cautiously before taking it and feeling the glow of Mike's smile. He was clearly a nice guy.

"It's good to meet you. Kurt has told me a lot about you."

Mike screwed his face. "Oh god, and you still came here? You've got guts. I see you met Santana?"

Blaine stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up with a lopsided smile. Mike was _normal. _"So far: Puck, Rachel, Brittany and Santana."

"Ouch," Mike laughed, winking to Tina who strolled over looking striking in a black dress pinned at odd angles and dotted with strips of lace and silk. She looked breathtaking. "That's, um, heavy. This is Tina Cohen-Chang, my girlfriend. I know we have the same last name but, you know, we're not related. Just in case Santana made her 'incestuous Asian babies' joke again."

"Hi Blaine," Tina offered gently in an obvious attempt to change the subject, she tucked herself into Mike's arm and beamed at him. Blaine couldn't help but notice the red lines around her shining eyes – the brief stint on stage had clearly affected her.

"You were great up there," Blaine tried. There was no doubting that the whole club had told her the same as she seemed calmer and less hysterical but Blaine had seen her startled look before she'd dashed off stage – an extra compliment wouldn't go unwanted.

"Thank you. It's just a shame that Coach Sylvester wants to sabotage every single thing we do."

Kurt appeared back at his side. "So you meet our resident long standing couple."

"We try," Tina giggled, flushing slightly. Blaine watched as Mike squeezed her side and kissed her hair. She squirmed a little, smiling as she tucked her head into his shoulder.

"So, Blaine, we should, you know, talk later or something? I can introduce you to Sam. He's the one introducing the acts so he's not here right now."

"That'd be great. Thanks. It was great to meet you." Kurt's arm tucked in his and steered him towards the door.

"You still with me?" he whispered against Blaine's ear.

Blaine took a breath and stopped them as they entered the empty corridor. Kurt's eyes were full of concern for a second; his hands were clutched at Blaine's arm in quite an uncharacteristic way. He knew he must have been giving away way too much during the evening without realising it, which wasn't going to allay any of Kurt's fears.

They were very different in many ways and that had always been a fact but the reality of two worlds colliding was every present and hanging in the air.

"Of course, I am," Blaine urged, pulling his arm from Kurt's grasp and reaching to hold his hand, "it'll take a lot more to freak me out."

"Good, because I know they can be a _lot _to take in and they are a very specific brand of crazy but when you get to know them, they're not so bad. I guess now you can appreciate all of things I wrote to you?"

"I still have to witness Artie's sweaters, right?" Kurt spat out a laugh.

They began to walk down the corridor. Blaine couldn't help but realize that their hands were still tightly grasped together. Kurt's fingers felt so small in his for a second so he threaded their fingers together and stroked a line across Kurt's knuckles, hoping it wouldn't go unnoticed. Kurt glanced down with a deep breath and secret smile.

Catching Blaine's eyes, he rocked on the balls of his feet and pursed his lips happily. "We still have another half to get through. Are you ok staying? It shouldn't go on much longer."

"Bring it on."

Mercedes seemed to appear for the finale and utterly wowed them with her solo. Kurt's styling was perfect; her hair was a sight to behold and complimented her fitted dress and heels wonderfully. There was no distracting from her voice though – she was indescribably good. So good in fact that Blaine felt his skin shiver.

"She's stunning," Kurt gasped, eyes shining for his friend. The whole club seemed to have taken a spot in the auditorium for the final number and most seemed to be happily enjoying the performance.

It seemed that Kurt was correct – as always. They were polar opposites of each other but even Puck seemed to be enchanted by Mercedes and Blaine had a distinct feeling that Aretha Franklin wasn't his first choice of music. They were obviously supportive.

When the concert came to an end and the raucous applause ran out, Blaine felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Blaine, good to see you again, dude!"

Finn took a chair behind them followed by Rachel who flitted into view and slid down into the chair beside Finn, the space non-existent between them. She interrupted immediately. "Did you enjoy your evening, Blaine?"

He knew that his words were very important in that moment. Kurt's amused eyes were on him instantly, curious as to what he was going to say but two of the most important people in Kurt's life were paying him unlimited attention. He had to be cool.

"I did, thank you, Rachel. You were wonderful. Your voice is stunning. Kurt told me how-" Kurt's eyes glared, silently urging him to be quiet, "I mean, I've seen you perform before but we were competitors then. I'm just Blaine right now, I'm not even in my uniform, so there's no competition and I can definitely say that your performance was outstanding."

Rachel's eyes appeared gentle for a moment but glittered soon after. She cuddled into Finn and beamed. "Thank you, Blaine. Barbra's my idol and performing is my life so if I don't do her justice then I may as well, just," she gestured dramatically, "die." Finn seemed proud, smugly curling back into her as she looked down then back up, suddenly bashful.

"Well," Kurt sighed, embellishing his tiredness, "we should be getting off. You going home right away?" Kurt turned his attention to Finn who offered a nod.

"I'm dropping Rachel off at her house but I'll be home later. Will you remind my mom again because you know how she worries and stuff?"

"I will."

Blaine turned to Rachel and offered a smile. "It was nice to meet you, Rachel. Nice to see you too, Finn. I guess I'll see you again sometime."

"Maybe we should double date! The leads of two rival show choirs and their respective partners," she announced, gripping Finn's shoulder. Finn blinked a few times, his vacant expression offering no insight into his willingness to partake in that particular... suggestion.

Kurt patted her hand slowly. "I mean this in the nicest possible way Rachel but that's a terrible idea. I'll see you tomorrow."

She appeared horrified but seemed to notice the humour in the moment. "Well then," she added haughtily, nose in the air, "someone's gone up in the world since they got a boyfriend."

"Goodnight, Rachel," Kurt pushed, nodding condescendingly and all but dragging Blaine by the arm from the auditorium.

"She's... quite something," Blaine whispered, as they reached the exit.

"That's one way to put it."

They made their way to Blaine's car, walking close and hands brushing with every other step. It felt as if their entire relationship had been stripped bare and left hanging open with a long list of questions unanswered.

"I'm sorry that tonight wasn't more... _fun._" Kurt's eyes shone in the darkness as he turned, leaning against Blaine's car.

"It's ok." Stepping towards Kurt, Blaine felt better the closer they got as if, somehow, Kurt allowed him to breathe out and relax. "It was _interesting_, but I wanted to meet your friends. They're important to you."

Kurt had an indistinguishable look in his eyes, as if he was miles away and deep in thought. "About what Rachel said," he began, obviously tentative.

"About the double date?"

"No." For a second, Kurt appeared withdrawn. It was the same expression he held when he was protecting himself, holding back and keeping his feelings wrapped tight. "The word she used."

It all clicked in place.

_Boyfriend._

He hadn't even noticed. Rachel had said it and Blaine's brain hadn't given it a second thought because it felt..._ right_.

"Kurt-"

"Look, I know were not into labels and it's not like I think we should start putting names to who we are because that's just not _us _but-"

"I didn't notice," Blaine rushed, his hand reaching to Kurt's arm and pulling it to him, his fingers sliding down to tangle with Kurt's. "I didn't notice because I've spent the past... oh forever... thinking about you and wanting to spend time with you and actually _daydreaming _about kissing you so I think that qualified as a little more than friends."

"Oh." Kurt's eyes dazzled.

"Also, I kind of like the sound of it."

"I do too."

"So..."

Kurt bit his lip bashfully. It was adorable how quickly he could do that and how it was becoming much more frequent.

"I'll call you when I get home," Kurt sighed, resting forward slightly, hands gingerly holding Blaine's hips. He drew in a sharp breath, checking Blaine's eyes and smiling to himself as if to grant permission.

"You'd better." Blaine could feel his heart beating hard, especially as Kurt's fingers wriggled, settling a little firmer. It took serious will power to resist pressing Kurt into the car and kissing him senseless because every single cell in his body seemed to ache with the insane sense of longing he'd been trying to knock out of his mind since their evening together. Kurt just didn't make it easy. He had the magical ability to twinkle with passion and strength in one moment and then, in another second, he'd flutter his eyelashes bashfully and look under his eyelashes with the kind of sincerity that made Blaine's toes curl.

Blaine knew his feelings were extending further than mere 'boyfriends'. Kurt seemed to strip him bare and wrap him warm in every moment.

It was addictive and exactly – _precisely_ – what Blaine had always dreamed of.

"Thank you for coming," Kurt said quietly, the air around them cool. A few people filtered out from the building but were too far away to see them. Blaine took a chance.

He curved to the balls of his feet and leaned up, pressing a feverish kiss to Kurt's cheek. The cool skin there was too inviting but Blaine knew he had to be chaste. He'd faced the consequences of standing too close to another guy in public in the past – he'd learned the hard way.

Kurt didn't seem to care. In a second, cold hands cupped his jaw, drawing him closer. He tried to gasp, tried to pull back but Kurt was insistent, eyes closed tight and frowning into the kiss as if it was the most important thing in the world.

Blaine groaned, well aware that he was breaking so many of his own rules but Kurt was so close and so soft against him that it was impossible to regain control and remember he had any resolve. He pulled Kurt to him, arms holding tight.

Drawing in a slow breath, Blaine allowed his mouth to open a little further, drawing Kurt closer until there didn't seem to be any air between them. Kurt stiffened a little for a fraction of a second but Blaine stroked a line against the small of his back and felt the twist in Kurt's muscles, the pull in his hands tinged with something frantic.

"I'm so crazy about you," Blaine said breathlessly but Kurt refused to stop, instead wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck and dragging him close. Blaine let his tongue dip into Kurt's mouth, his brain melting with the overwhelming sense of Kurt surrounding him: his smell, his touch, the way the smooth pads of his fingers tickled their way along his skin. As Blaine felt his spine tingle, Kurt suddenly went rigid and silent, pulling back. "Kurt?"

"It's _him,_" he hissed, pushing them to one side and behind another car close-by.

"Who?" Blaine asked quickly, noticing the sharp fear prickling at Kurt's features and causing every wonderful expression of affection and fondness to disappear. The wheels were turning in Kurt's mind; he could _see _the frenzied panic spread instantaneously.

"_Him, _Blaine. Karofsky."

* * *

><p><strong>~tbc<strong>

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><p><strong><span>Two things:<span>**  
>1. Before you all kill me, don't fret. It's not as bad as it seems.<br>2. Blaine WILL meet the rest of the ND.

I should have the next Chapter up soon. It's a mixture of - oh good god - so much and is verging on the NC-17 so, I'm having it beta-d a little more (going a little outside of my v comfortable territory).

[I'm praying I got the ND characterisation ok. Good lord knows how long I fussed over individual words. When characters mean the world to you but you don't spend as much time with them (like I do with K/B and sometimes Finn and Rachel) then there's always the worry you'll do them a disservice!]

**PPS: (mwahaha) THREE DAYS.**


	18. Too Much

Title: Wild Horses (12B/12)  
><span>Word Count<span>: ~7,500  
><span>Warnings:<span> AU (using as much canon as possible but a little out of order)  
><span>Rating:<span> On the edge of NC-17  
><span>Summary:<span>A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

**Author's Notes**  
>I'm so sorry for the wait. As always, life got in the way. It's here at last and <strong>there's still the 2 part epilogue to come<strong>, which includes a little of the original foundation of this story for those who wanted just ONE MORE LETTER ;) I promise it won't be anywhere near as long a wait.

Big cuddles for **whenidance** and **ccmskatechick** for being the two most lovely ladies as well as wonderful betas.  
>Another big thank you to <strong>Chazzam<strong> for saying some frankly LOVELY things about this story and for her lovely feedback (I mean, GOOD GOD, The Sidhe is AU genius and original fiction in its own right so... wow.)  
>Because I can, I'm thanking Ed Sheeran for writing Kiss Me too ; )<p>

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

**Chapter Notes:  
><strong>This Chapter is the one I'm most insecure about posting so feedback would be cherished!  
>I wanted to make sure it wasn't clichéd as that's not me, so enjoy their talkiness and a lil bit of drama.<p>

Also - the idea of the 'car' was intended LONG AGO so it wasn't influenced by any spoilers :)

~o~o~oOo~o~o~

* * *

><p>Kurt felt his stomach lurch.<p>

Karofsky was no longer a threat during school hours but that didn't mean that he had disappeared altogether.

"Are you ok?" Blaine asked quickly, pressing his hand to Kurt's lower back to steady him. "He can't see you, Kurt. You're safe."

Eyes like daggers and only dampened by worry, Kurt glared. "Blaine, you know just as well as I do that we are anything but safe."

"I know, Kurt," Blaine tried, already feeling foolish, "but he's all the way over there. Just stay here and he'll just leave."

Kurt couldn't tear his eyes away, so dead set upon keeping Karofsky in eye line until he walked away and Kurt could breathe again.

Blaine felt a little sick with nerves. This was the person he'd heard far too much about –w ay too much for one lifetime.

"He's not leaving, he's looking around. What happens if he sees us?" Kurt could hear his voice, pleading and frightened, wavering over syllables as if the words themselves were just as scary as the reality. It felt disgusting to give in to those feelings again but it was dark, secluded and he'd been without them for so long.

"Kurt," Blaine urged, tugging a little at his arm, "you're not alone, ok? If he sees us then I'm here too. He can't hurt you."

"Blaine. He can. You _know _that." Kurt looked so stricken that Blaine could hardly see through the angry shiver in his eyes, the steely frustration at the thought that someone could be so aware of hurting someone like Kurt. It was inconceivable. He didn't deserve to have it sucked from him, to have to look over his shoulder. The same crippling fear took over amongst the rage – Kurt couldn't be hurt, not like Daniel was.

They watched as Karofsky lingered by the entrance, pacing with a glance at his watch every few minutes. He looked bigger than Kurt could remember and something inside snapped.

"I won't let him hurt me," Kurt spat, suddenly enraged, the pressure bubbling in his chest, "He's just as scared of me outing him as he is intent on making me suffer for, "he frowned deeply, waving his hand in the air, "_whatever _I did... breathing, I guess. I'm not going to hide in the dark like some frightened puppy like this, Blaine. We've both been hurt before but we're stronger than that. Am I right?"

There was a solid cyan spark in Kurt's eyes. He couldn't be persuaded otherwise, that much was starkly clear.

Blaine couldn't quite breathe, heart thumping painfully hard and echoing in his ears as a heavy and frantic beat. Kurt's gaz was frozen, locked in target until his eyes turned to Blaine. It felt like looking at a steadily boiling pot, bubbles climbing gradually and contained in the heat until that white hot and sharp moment when it hit maximum and everything became a little unpredictable. Kurt seemed that way. He was unbeatable.

In that moment, Blaine felt small but protected. He'd _tried _to do the protecting, to give Kurt advice, be there when he needed someone because Blaine _knew _how it felt to wake up each morning with a tug in your stomach that reminded you of the fact you weren't ok, that nobody understood. Why would anyone – how could they – help?

If nobody cared enough to give a damn or learn to on a day-to-day basis then screaming to be heard and stamping feet to be noticed - for the _blatant suffering_ to be noticed – was just par for the course.

"You're right. But you need to be _safe_." Blaine kept his hands pressed to Kurt's side in the hope that the touch and the meaning behind his words would seep through. Daniel had been hurt; Blaine had watched and heard it only metres away and had done nothing. How could he have? They were so tiny, really. They were new to the world that would find new ways to deny them a normal teenage existence just for feeling love and attraction for another human being. Kurt was too precious to lose more faith or whatever faith he had left.

He was grounding himself more than anything, knowing that at any second, Kurt was going to move away and stand alone and there would be nothing he could do.

Kurt had done it for so long and Blaine could see it in his eyes – the independence. It wasn't difficult to feel the protective instinct rising to the surface and filling him up until he could barely breathe because Kurt, of all people, deserved better. He deserved someone to fight alongside him. He deserved to never be alone.

Turning a little and following Kurt's line of sight, Blaine saw Karofsky approach the Azimio guy, high fiving each other as they jeered. That made _so much sense. _Bullies didn't differ that much from school to school and Blaine wondered if any of the culprits of his past hid any deep dark homosexual desires. In an odd and twisted way, Blaine hoped they did and prayed they'd never find true love and acceptance for what they'd done to him. It was unforgivable to wish that on another human being but Blaine recognised in himself that niggling character flaw – compartmentalised anger. It was never going to go away.

Kurt took a breath, straightening up and shredding Blaine's hand like a snake skin. He appeared to grow a couple of inches but fell stories in his eyes.

"I'm going to get into the car and we're going to say goodbye like normal human beings. I will _not _allow him to ruin our evening."

"Kurt-"

"No, Blaine," he urged, tone forceful but a hand coming to softly press to Blaine's chest, "I won't allow it. It won't happen anymore. Not to me, not to you, not to anyone. I won't let them do this to what we have. Ok?"

Kurt stared for a long and silent moment until Blaine nodded. Saying no to Kurt felt like betrayal.

"Ok," Blaine breathed, regretting every word, "goodnight. Be safe, ok? Text me until I know you're home and in bed and safe."

Kurt eyes sparkled, so gentle and fond that Blaine felt sure he was going to back down, shrink back into the shadows until '_he_' was gone and they could relax again.

He was wrong.

The dismay in Blaine's expression made Kurt's heart hurt. He couldn't see why it was so important but after persistent misery, there would be no end without action. Kurt knew he was safe within the school walls but the big wide world was always going to be cruel unless the bullies and bigots were forced to see how wrong they were.

It shouldn't be down to them or some other kid to fight injustice that had existed for much too long but no change occurred in life without people instigating it.

Blaine was scared – he had good reason to be – and, yes, it was simpler to walk away or hide but Kurt knew it wasn't his style. Karofsky was weak and it would only be a matter of time until he slipped up again – plus, Kurt knew he had one very important piece of information to hold over his meat head.

"I'm sorry this is happening," Kurt sighed with genuine regret. If only they could kiss goodnight like normal teenagers.

"Kurt, this isn't your fault. Not at all. I just want you to be safe, for us _both _to be safe. Just call me. Promise?"

"I will. I promise." Kurt's eyes fell as they lingered on the pavement; in them drifted the ghost of the most heart aching sadness Blaine had ever seen.

He reached forward, protected by the darkness still, and pressed a small kiss to Kurt's cheek, knowing to linger a little to make his point as fully as possible. "I meant what I said, you know? I'm crazy about you so don't go thinking that this is going to change anything."

Shining with tears, Kurt smiled, rubbing his lips together. "Ok."

"Goodnight, Kurt. I'm staying in my car until I see you drive off, ok?"

It felt wrong to let Kurt go. They'd found one another in such unusual but fated circumstances that now they were a special part of each other's lives, it felt empty when Kurt wasn't near.

Blaine took one last look behind him, watching as Kurt shrugged off his jacket, folding it precisely and laying it on the backseat. Kurt was just about to climb in when Blaine felt his stomach lurch. With his hand squeezing the clasp of his car door, he knew he was going to act. Nothing was going to be able to stop him.

"Yo, fairy boy, that your boyfriend sneaking off? Didn't know this was a hangout for the likes of _you lot." _The venom in those words made Blaine feel physically sick.

He couldn't move though, limbs so uselessly unresponsive and frozen in fear. Those taunts had only lead to bruises and misery in the past but as he caught the look on Kurt's face, the grim realisation in the glow of the streetlights, something snapped.

Blaine knew he cared about Kurt, in that moment, more than he'd cared about anyone before.

"Don't talk to him like that."

Kurt started, interrupted by Blaine's command out of the dark. "Blaine-"

"No, Kurt," Blaine urged, facing Karofsky with poker straight posture, "I know we haven't met before but Kurt told me what you did."

Karofsky all but growled, Azimio flashing a questioning glare. "K, what's he talking about?"

With a low groan, Karofsky snapped. "Look, I don't know who you are but we don't want your kind spreading fairy dust all over the place. We've already got enough of _that_," he wafted his hand in the air, Azimio jeering him on, "with Hummel turning the air pink."

"You might be scared and confused but this isn't fair. Don't take your own issues out on Kurt and don't you dare think about hurting him."

"Blaine-" Kurt was shaking, eyes wide and accusatory as Blaine turned to him.

"Your boyfriend fighting your battles now, Hummel?"

"Nobody fights my battles for me, David. Nobody."

Blaine could feel his heart stuttering, fingers shaking and body fused with anger. Why did people think they had a right to make another person's life a misery?

"Don't try to pretend like we all don't know what's going on here. Kurt knows, I know and if you had a decent bone in your body you'd stop this right now and leave us alone."

"Screw you, butt boy," Karofsky spat, forehead twisted up roughly and a steel edge to his glare. Blaine couldn't see straight as his fists hit against a solid wall of muscle, much too big and unwavering to do any damage but it felt _good_. The white heat behind his eyes as Kurt's arms dragged him back was too much, too painful, too reminiscent. "You wanna keep your _boyfriend _under control, Hummel because next time I won't even hesitate to unleash the fury. Get it?"

Kurt hissed. "You're so clever with your fists but you're a coward when it comes to the truth," he barked, hands like rods in Blaine's arm.

"Hey, Kurt!" As if by some divine intervention, the school doors swung open and Finn followed by Rachel, Santana, Brittany and the remainder of the Glee club spilled out and flooded the car park in bustle and chatter.

Karofsky's cheeks twitched, eyes diverted as Blaine watched his side kick shuffle in confusion before slapping his back. They were so primal it was pathetic. "Come on, K. Wasted too much of my time on these losers."

"Yea, well at least we're losers who are honest with ourselves!" Blaine yelled to their retreating backs, injecting as much bitterness and fury as he could muster.

Kurt wasn't moving though. His hands were balled into fists by his sides, rigid and motionless in a way that told Blaine exactly how angry he was.

"What was _that?"_

Kurt's eyes were dagger-like, hard like flint and aimed directly at Blaine. He shuddered, skin crawling with panicked fear.

"He was saying all that stuff-"

"He _always _says that stuff Blaine and now he's going to think that I need somebody to stand up for me, that I need someone because I _don't. _Not really. I've survived long enough without someone doing _that."_

Blaine winced, a thin veil of anger forming too. "I was just trying to support you."

"Blaine," Kurt sighed, roughly with a hint of disappointment, "you were trying to fight your _own _demons while being my hero. I don't _need _a hero. If your past phone call and all of my letters hadn't already shown... I can manage alone, thank you."

With a sharp breath, Blaine bit back. "Oh yeah, Kurt, definitely. The only reason you're not still miserable and frightened to walk your own school halls is because some useless excuse for a teacher witnessed him being an asshole."

"He's gone-"

"Not gone, Kurt. Stalled. You forget, I know how this goes-"

"He wouldn't hurt me, Blaine. He's scared and pathetic-"

"Oh, and you know what's inside his head do you? You can see how scared he is, can you? And you think he says those things and would never ever act on them. You think that _kiss _was a one off. You're not stupid. You're smart, Kurt, but right now you can't see your own situation because you're too involved."

"I'm terrified," Kurt spat, half crying, "I hate what he did to me and I'm scared he'll do it again but he's not your run of the mill monster, he's a terrified little boy who will never be true to himself. I just don't need _anyone _to fight my battles for me because I need to be able to hold my own here, I need them to know I'm not some girl, some lady. I need their opinions of me to not be true."

"Kurt," Blaine pleaded, understanding, "you're _none _of those things. Who cares what they think?"

"I do. I care, Blaine, because you don't have to live here. You have Dalton and the safety of those walls but I don't and I need them to know they can't mess with me."

"They can't," Blaine sighed, leaning against a near-by car door with a slump. It felt horrible; Kurt looked choked up, eyes damp and hands clasped hard. "I wouldn't let them." There was a period where nothing moved. There was only the sound of traffic in the distance, the mumble of people talking and a rustle of trees but the relative quiet was so noticeable, so empty.

In a second, the distance between them grew wider and Blaine turned to walk away.

Kurt couldn't breathe, the air caught in his throat, choked and unmoving. Blaine was disappearing, and he had every right to. He'd tried to help and yes, he'd been a little pushy but he wasn't bad, he wasn't spiteful or vindictive. Those titles were reserved for _other _people.

He was sweet and fumbling through life too. They were so similar, really, and he was leaving.

"Blaine!" He turned quickly and Kurt let himself breathe, wondering if Blaine was waiting, waiting for Kurt to make a move or just hoping he would. "I'm sorry."

"Kurt-"

"No, listen," Kurt pushed, stepping forward quickly as Blaine came into view under the street lights, "I've never had anyone do that before. Well, the Glee club stuck up for me, fighting my battles for me when I wasn't there but I'm used to doing it for myself, doing it alone when it happens to _me."_

"Nobody," Blaine urged, frowning, his hands fingering with the hem of his pockets, "_nobody _should do that kind of thing alone, Kurt." He took a breath, finally meeting Kurt's eyes and sighing it out. "I get that you're not used to people sticking up for you but don't you want someone to fight by your side? Not for you, not instead of you but _with _you?"

Hands shivering, Kurt nodded. He could feel the tear welling at the corners of his eyes, hot and fought back. "Of course I do."

"Well, that's what I tried to do. I'm no expert at," he waved his hand, gesturing to the air, "_relationships _but I know you or I'm learning to and I want to know everything but I didn't think you'd be angry about me supporti-"

"I'm not." It wasn't fair. Blaine was right, his words sounded lame, Kurt's own actions rendered inexcusable as he'd brushed off Blaine's obvious compassion and support. "You have to understand that I never had anyone, maybe except my dad, who stood by my side during everything that went down this year. I don't know what to do with you. You're..."

"Intrusive and overbearing?" Blaine offered, half smiling with nervous eyes.

"A little."

"I can be really useful though. I promise," Blaine chuckled, breathless. Kurt felt numb still. "Let's never fight again," Blaine rushed out all at once. His hands were trembling – that much Kurt could see – and his eyes were so forlorn.

For the first time, Kurt felt fraught with fear. Spending every waking moment dreaming was dangerous. Wanting something for so long with such an intensity meant it was that much harder to accept when it becomes reality.

"That was stupid," Kurt said quietly, pursing his lips, "really stupid. You look sad. I look frantic and I just know my skin's gone blotchy from all the stress-"

"Hey-"

"No, Blaine. They can't win like this. I don't want to fight with you. I don't want to fight with you as much as I don't ever want to wear cheap polyester or eat McDonalds."

Blaine's eyes crinkled, a smile formed. "That's quite a statement."

"Exactly."

"Promise me you won't think I'm the world's biggest bitch after tonight. I'm really not, all the time," Kurt grinned coyly, sliding his hands into his pockets with a swift eyebrow tilt. "I really am a nice person, you know?"

"Kurt. Shut up. We had a fight. That doesn't make us horrible people, certainly not you."

"I should never have blamed you for anything. I understand why you did what you did. You have experienced so much worse than me," he stopped to think for a moment before quickly adding, "not that our experiences can be compared."

With a slow step forward, the distance closing, Blaine outstretched his arm and waited. Kurt could see the fondness reappear in a heartbeat. Gently, he threaded his finger's with Blaine's and attempted to suppress the desperate need to cling to the beautiful boy in front of him – crazy, gorgeous, handsome, loyal, genuine, ridiculous, fascinating Blaine – and never let him go.

Finding someone who didn't run at the first sign of a character flaw was one of life's precious moments.

Blaine was close now, eyes deep and so open with a trust so vivid it was overwhelming. "Are we ok?"

"We're ok," Kurt echoed, smiling. "Never do that again."

"No."

Kurt tugged slightly, pulling Blaine forward and gleefully revelling in Blaine's surprised double take.

Inside, it was quiet. Kurt locked the door behind him and turned to find Blaine sitting composed in the back seat, a tiny grin teasing at his mouth. There was a definite plus having a father who worked with cars – blackened windows were _always _going to come in handy.

There wasn't much room but Kurt slid into the seat beside Blaine, head reeling at the delicious claustrophobia of it all. Having Blaine in one place – in a tiny space – was too wonderful for words after months and months of distance. It still made his head spin.

Blaine shuffled on the spot, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater. It was a gesture so small, so insignificant but Kurt felt his throat catch and he moved without thinking, lips on Blaine's in seconds.

It was messy and uncoordinated but somehow Blaine's shock had caused them to wedge themselves sideways, Blaine half off the chair and Kurt pressed into the back, head angled against the head rests.

"Kurt." Blaine's breath felt hot against his ear, shuddering with his heartbeat in between kisses, so charged and desperate.

Kurt couldn't think straight, ears booming with the realisation that _this _was happening. It was like he was floating somewhere above the car, looking down in shock. He felt detached from himself, brain far too woozy to focus and respond that Kurt was sure he was unresponsive. Blaine didn't seem to mind. It was too much to process in such a short space of time.

Blaine touched in the gentlest way. He wasn't pushing or ranking up the pressure at all and it made Kurt want to cry.

Kurt felt Blaine's hands knock against his hip, slowly sliding to hold them in place as he pushed himself a little higher until Blaine was almost straddling Kurt into the seat of the car. The position wasn't that of control at all - as much as it would seem to others. Blaine's fingers shook when they trailed tickling tracks along Kurt's forearm, his whole body seemed to tremble and Kurt gasped his way back into the moment, suddenly so sharply _there _that he had to move, speak, act… _anything_.

"Blaine." It always felt so nice to _say _Blaine's name instead of writing it, to know he was so present and close but this was different. He was there, right in eye line and just a little bit flushed.

"You ok? Too much?" Kurt's heart _ached. _

"No," he breathed out, still unsure if he was actually saying _words_ and functioning enough to respond properly; having Blaine wrapped around him, hands wandering and hot breath against his skin was just too mind blowing to be real. "No, we're fine. I just- Blaine, this is-"

"A lot," Blaine added, sitting back onto Kurt's lap and letting his hands fall to rest at Kurt's hips once more. Blaine's eyes were so focused and locked in the moment.

Kurt shivered into his words.

"Yes." He could feel the heat creep up his neck. "It's a lot and I just- I just want you to know," he closed his eyes momentarily, unexpectedly painfully shy, "that I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing right now."

Nodding, Blaine smiled. "I don't think there's a rule book and if it helps," he laughed to himself, lips quivering, "I have no idea what I'm doing either. I just know that I'd never feel as ok doing this with anyone else as I do with you. _Ok?_ That's such a bad choice of words for what I'm feeling because…god… _Kurt."_

_That_ was the moment. Kurt recognised it immediately as he physically jolted, eyes widening and heart skipping as every romantic novel proclaimed it should when one falls in love. It wasn't clichéd. They were making out in the back of a car, after all. It wasn't schmaltzy or contrived, it wasn't textbook or perfect and they would never be _normal. _Their entire relationship existed on a foundation so unusual that Kurt felt it in his bones just how much he treasured every single moment since he first received an adorably proper letter from a stranger.

Blaine had run out of words. He just looked gloriously exasperated. Kurt watched Blaine smile, slow and satisfied, as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Kurt's lips. Even Kurt allowed himself to believe in fairytales for just a split second.

Nobody went riding off into the sunset and people had _problems, _but as Blaine's fingers ran slowly down his neck, Kurt knew he'd remember every tiny sound and touch forever. It was the special kind of romance he'd always dreamed of – nothing so cloyingly sweet that it felt forced but instead, just the most heart stopping, achingly real feelings. They were scary and, for the first time, Kurt realised how important that fear was.

Blaine could kiss it away as quick as it came.

He was so in the moment now that even the slightest drag of fingertips or shift in position felt like a blow to his chest, dragging the air from him.

Blaine's weight pressed him low into the curvature of the chair, back arching to push closer; meeting in the middle felt so solid and warm until Kurt _felt Blaine_ against his hip and sucked in a breath, so sharp and rapid that he eyes flew upon, fingers pressing into flesh.

"Hey." Blaine's whined protest made Kurt shiver.

"I'm sorry," he rushed, fumbling to straighten his shirt. He couldn't look Blaine in the eye.

"Don't say that. Hey, come closer."

Blaine knew he sounded a little too firm but every muscle in Kurt's body was rigid and frozen. He wasn't pliant any longer and his eyes flittered around the car and down to his busy fingers at his buttons.

"Need a minute."

Swallowing thickly, Blaine rested to sit by Kurt's side. He peeled himself free and watched every flicker of emotion across Kurt's face; every touch and savoured kiss was so shockingly real, so honest and _sweet. _Kurt was paradoxical. His untouchable exterior, the one he'd used sarcasm in his letters to convey, was still there as was the gentle Kurt who sat quietly and unassuming under the surface – he'd been the one writing every letter. He'd opened up, spilled his heart onto the page and written every word with the most sincere conviction.

Blaine wanted to drag him from the page and take away the reasons for any impending facade. Kurt was perfect when his guard slid away and he gazed back in wonder and delight. When he smiled, he glittered.

Blaine kissed him again, leaning in to press his lips against Kurt's cheek at first but soon they were kissing properly, Kurt sighing at the touch. "You don't think I'm feeling it too?" Blaine whispered against Kurt's lips. "I am."

Kurt shrank back for a second. His eyes were shining bright, wet with something Blaine couldn't put his finger on. "We're dangerously close to seriously huge things right now."

Blaine's skin washed cold. "Kurt, I'd never- I mean..."

"I know," Kurt interrupted, a hand against Blaine's chest reassuringly. "I know this is ok. I know you'd never pressure me into anything and this is _not _the issue." His face flooded pink, spots of blush high on his cheekbones.

"Kurt?"

"Look," Kurt groaned out of frustration, "I may have been wrong in my conclusion." He blushed, closing his eyes with an embarrassed sigh, "but it turns out that I may have been wrong in my conclusion."

"What do you mean?"

Kurt was so poised for moment, eyes resolute on Blaine's. He had to do it sometime and with the lure and solid silent promise in Blaine's eyes, he let the words just come. "It turns out that the touch of fingertips isn't as sexy as it gets."

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed." Curling back a fraction, Blaine smirked and bit his lip to keep it from splitting his face.

"You're ok though?" Blaine asked, breathlessly as they kissed again, always balancing on the edge of letting go.

"Fine. Better than fine. Ok. Scared but ok and fine. You?"

Blaine frowned, leaning back. _Scared_? That wasn't good. His own heart was beating out of his chest with adrenaline and fear but was Kurt's fear worse or different or plain normal?

"Scared?"

Kurt tensed, squirming at the sensation of Blaine's hands sliding wide down his sides to rest at his hips.

"Yes. Not bad scared. I don't think so anyway, just good scared. Look, just ignore me. Keep doing what you were doing."

With a groan of frustration, Blaine regrouped for a moment. Kurt felt the panic wash in, sharp and prickly under the cloud of lust and want and need...

"Not if you're frightened, Kurt. I'm scared too but it doesn't matter because you're here. It's you and we're close and I feel like we have this connection-"

"We have, Blaine. We have. Oh god, just ignore me," Kurt said quickly the words tearing out to try to fix the enormous gaping hole he'd created in a millisecond. He clasped Blaine's shoulders. "Ignore me. Seriously. I was rambling. I'm not scared of _you. _I'm scared of _this. _You know that and it's painful even talking about it because I feel like a child but not when you're with me. It's so new and overwhelming and I can't think straight. I felt so afraid of this before _you_ and your soppy words and hands touching and lips and Blaine just... will you just kiss me again or am I going to have to beg? I don't feel scared when you kiss me."

Kurt knew his face was scarlet, eyes on the watery side and showing more than he'd ever imagined he'd show another but Blaine wasn't in a better state. He looked enamoured, caught up and swept away.

_Perfect_, really.

Blaine recognised the pure sincerity in Kurt's eyes. "Is it just because you don't want to talk about what we're doing?"

"Yes and no. It helps to just feel and not think. I'm sick of thinking. It stops me doing things, makes me frightened but you'll kiss me and, um," he blushed, glancing down between them until Blaine offered a gentle and encouraging smile, "I lose my mind. That's never happened before so excuse me for not wanting my thoughts to paralyse me with fear."

"You're adorable," Blaine cooed, reaching to stroke Kurt's cheek a little. He leaned closer and pressed where his fingers had lifted free, slowly and in hope that Kurt would understand exactly what he meant.

With a huff, Kurt frowned. "Great. I'm like a baby penguin. Adorable isn't exactly what I was going for."

"Shush," Blaine whispered, fingers tickling up to meet at Kurt's neck where they looped and gradually drew them both together, meeting at the lips. Whispered into skin, Blaine spoke softly before settling forward further to slot properly into Kurt's lap, legs either side of his hips. "Adorable _is _sexy. You have _no _idea how other people see you."

Kurt shuddered as Blaine breath, hot and balmy, ghosted his skin. "Milkmaid. Pear hips. Lady. Delicate. Need I go on?"

Blaine sat straight with a certain fierceness Kurt had never seen before. "Those are the last words I'd choose. You're the strongest person I know. You're formidable and poised but you have so much vulnerability that kills me. That's nothing to be ashamed of. You only need look at me and it feels... it feels safe and strong like you'd never let anyone mess with us. Look at what you did before outside. You were so brave. In a heartbeat you can make me melt, if we ignore my hero complex for a moment. All of your letters when you'd write such cute little French phrases for me to translate and send kisses and thoughtful gifts – I just _knew_ you were special. It felt as if you cared and we didn't even know each other properly. It was an addiction to think about you because you were so _nice _but full of life and opinions and so much more dazzling than I could ever be. Do you have any idea how rare that is? I'm crazy about you and for the record, I'm the broad one of the both of us. Your waist is miniscule but so so soft. Why else do you think I like touching you there so much aside from the fact that cuddles are like crack to me." Kurt caught the blush blooming across Blaine's cheeks in puddles of pink, just under the twinkle of his eyes in the darkness. "You drive me crazy _because _of your arms and shoulders and strength alongside all of the things that make you sweet and kind and funny. Forget everyone else and the things people have said. Who's the most reliable source – me or them?"

Kurt could feel himself swooning. _Dreamy_. He'd been so right from the beginning and, back then, Blaine hadn't even opened his mouth to speak.

"You're lovely. You're tights and a cummerbund away from being a fairytale prince and I can't even muster the energy to mock. I'm too happy to care."

With a flicker of a smirk, Blaine curved closer and re-kissed along Kurt's neck, lingering achingly low. His lips were wet, sliding across skin but firm too, Kurt's skin tingling in place even once they'd lifted free. It felt like being claimed; it was a sweet claim, a delicate insistence of exactly how serious their feelings were.

"When the world catches up and creates the first gay Disney couple, I'll be in line for casting then, shall I?" he murmured into Kurt's skin causing a dilemma – laugh, moan with sharp pleasure or sigh dreamily.

"I don't know how I feel about having a boyfriend in the movies."

Blaine groaned. "Keep saying that word."

Kurt's eyes rolled back as he slid further down and pressed against Blaine, clasping his arms tight around him. "Now that would be giving you what you want."

"Exactly."

"Says the preppy boy from the posh school. So _spoiled._"

Blaine rolled his eyes, laughing, as his lashes tickled the skin at Kurt's collar bone. He gasped and Blaine's looked up, warm but eyes swimming with something deep.

"Has anyone ever told you how soft your skin is?" Blaine asked, his voice almost slurred. Kurt couldn't help but notice the wonder in his voice – dreaming, he had to be – and melted into every touch, body responding without hesitation to every minute shifting of Blaine's body with skin on fire.

"Um, only once but just about my hands... _oh, um... _Brittany, I..." Blinking open his eyes to ground himself, Kurt watched Blaine's unoccupied hand slide into his and cling tight. It was all _too much. _Blaine was everywhere: his smell, touch, voice and mere presence were too overwhelming to be real. It felt as if he was floating still somewhere up above the car, mocking himself for even believing that something so insane, so hot, was actually happening.

Blaine never stopped kissing for a second. As his lips left Kurt's they fell to his jaw, neck and lastly his shoulder where they left light dotted patterns that shot heat through the material of his shirt. It was a heady cycle and all the while, Kurt knew he had to respond, to keep kissing Blaine back and trying so damn hard to be _good _at everything. Blaine had it made. He knew exactly where to kiss, the most _irritatingly perfect _noises to make and just at the right moment – he was new to it all to but he had talent. God damn him.

Kurt tried to focus; as his head swam and buzzed, chest tight, skin ablaze and heart beating throughout his entire body, the noise was deafening. He was swept away. Blaine was so present and _there _but it was so _different_. Kurt dug his fingers into the felt-like seat covering, ignoring the scratch of the synthetic material and focusing instead on the drag of Blaine's skin against his own.

He had one single aim – try not to cry.

It felt as if every insecurity, every worry and niggling issue lying in wait under his skin had dissolved. Blaine was true and open to the potential of pain and humiliation too. If they weren't awkward and fumbling then they weren't in it together – that was all that mattered.

Everything was so slow but tight now as Blaine kissed a little harder and Kurt learned, so quickly, how to make him twist and squirm in the most perfect way.

"_Oh my god_, Kurt," Blaine gasped suddenly, eyes flying open before darting in for another kiss, as if the hundred they'd traded just _weren't enough. _Kurt stared back, confused and shaking with _need_.

"What did I do?"

Blaine's body shivered, eyes so sharp and bright with a crazy mixture of honesty and lust. Kurt felt his body clench, heart held so possessed and locked under Blaine's gaze.

"Hair." Blaine's voice cracked, spine rolling and pushing closer into Kurt's body with a low sigh. His face blurred. "_My god_." He caught Kurt's lips once more.

Kurt hadn't even noticed he'd been tugging at Blaine's hair, hands threaded through and knuckles almost white.

_Still _Blaine was too far away it seemed.

"Can't help it," Kurt moaned at the touch of wet lips at his collarbone. The planes of his shoulders, arms, legs and everywhere right down to his toes tingled, fizzing and firing with a sparkly kind of desire. His legs were encased in the tightest jeans imaginable; they were blood constricting, containing him or else he'd fall apart, melt into a puddle or swoon into a useless heap.

He knew he couldn't push back further to keep a safe distance. Blaine was unyielding, tender but insistent. His hands were uncontrollable, sliding from hips to jaw to hold tighter into the kiss, pouring everything into it until he physically had to drag himself back for breath.

Blaine wanted _everything. _In an instant, he felt greedy. Kurt was so fluid with each and every touch, curling into the moment and sucking the air from between them with laboured breaths and stuttered words.

"You're so – You're so-" Blaine couldn't focus his brain.

"You too. I mean, _yes," _Kurt drawled, tilting his neck as the kiss deepened, Blaine's tongue sliding against his own and firing jolts so hot and direct down into the pit of his stomach. They were moving fast, bodies heating up far too quickly and Kurt knew he had to shift back - the mortifying thought that Blaine would _feel _him was too hard to handle.

As they shifted once more, hands holding tight, Blaine made a low noise, deep in the back of his throat and dragged out as his hand found the edge of Kurt's shirt and slid under to skin. Kurt's throat caught, eyes slamming closed and back arching with a whimper he could hardly contain.

"_Blaine. I- oh." _There wasn't time or focus to speak but he was garbling nonsense.

"Never thought I'd... _Kurt_, I just- I'm not going to talk." Kurt choked out a laugh, which was more hysterical and overwhelmed than humorous.

"Mmmmm," Kurt hummed in response, rolling his back with a gasp as he felt Blaine hard against his thigh, this time _much _more obvious. He didn't pull away. "B-_Blaine_."

Kurt could feel his rapid heart fluttering and aching. Struggling to breathe with the potential, the fear, the crazy head spinning wonder of the reckless making out in the back of a car. That wasn't all it was though – it was much, _much _more.

His mind clouded suddenly, thick and blind with the closeness and proximity, the drag of fingertips over his sensitive skin. Blaine's skin was new and smelled very much of _boy _that Kurt felt choked on the swoop in his stomach – _definitely gay. _Everything about Blaine was heady and new in the best possible way.

Kurt trembled, an all-over shiver curling his toes as he felt the drag of Blaine against him, skin vibrating and humming hot and fierce. It wasn't what he expected – not even _close. _The friction was intense, sparks dotting in his eyes as he curved into Blaine and held tight, moving with him and mumbling nonsense into his skin.

As Blaine's hips shifted, angling them sideways messily, Kurt let out a broken whimper, half sob to match his now scrambling hands. Blaine felt his head whirl. His heart felt jittery; it was so stupefying, so incredible to see Kurt so lost, to fall into that with him and feel nothing but trust and a disregard for the fear. Kurt kissed and touched with all of his heart – _that _was the most staggering thing. He could barely breathe.

Blaine felt his eyes prickle, wondering dizzily for a moment if anyone else had ever seen Kurt this way.

"Blaine, hey," Kurt soothed, a hand, all of a sudden, coming to gently frame his jaw, "are you ok?"

Blinking, Blaine fell back into the moment, pulse hard and vibrating to his bones, to find Kurt gazing at him with a dazed concern; his chest was rising and falling in random emotion-laced gasps. "Amazing. Why?"

With a low laugh, Kurt swiped the pad of his index finger along the darker patch under Blaine's eye. "Your eyes are wet."

"Oh." He hadn't realised.

Hiding his face, Blaine dropped his head to Kurt's and let his pulse regulate. He nuzzled closer, breathing in.

"I suppose you're not the only one who finds this a little too overwhelming." He looked up under eyelashes to see Kurt smile, small and amazed.

"Big night." Kurt's hand stroked a perfect and surprisingly steady strip from cheek to elbow then held tight. Kurt knew he could focus if he wasn't the one under the spotlight.

It all felt too much, as if it meant more than words could say.

"Kurt, as much as I'm going to regret saying this, because the last thing I want is to move from this car," Kurt blushed, biting his lip, "but the fact we keep stopping and talking and over analysing is great and I love that we talk things out but we haven't been together long and... you're my... you're _it _for me. You're special and, god, everything I've wanted for so long so I don't want this to be impulsive and random. I want whatever _this _would lead to, to be special, not rushed. Do you know what I'm trying to say? I need to just stop right now because if I don't then it'd go too far and there'd be no place for rational thought. You, um, you do _that _to me so..."

Kurt felt drained but tingly and alive, hands still clenched on Blaine's arms, feeling his muscle move as he emphasised every word. It was so _present, _so real and sure that he nodded, looking into Blaine's eyes and understanding why he knew he'd be driving away soon.

"I don't think I'm ready yet." It was the truth. With Blaine, yes, in a car, no. Soon? Definitely. Without being able to think straight at all and shaking from mere touch? Probably not. Everything was so mind bending and swimming in awe that Kurt knew neither of them could focus. "I mean, I am, I think. Just not now."

"Good," Blaine smiled, stroking at Kurt's hands and looping his fingers into the warm palm there. "Do you want to do something tomorrow evening?"

Kurt's eyes were wide and clear. "I'd like that. I can text you tomorrow, meet you after Glee club unless I have homework."

"Homework," Blaine groaned, playfully. "Real life. Right."

"I like that everything's real." Kurt said after a brief silence. His eyelashes fluttered as he spoke, fingers knotting with Blaine's and squeezing.

"Me too. So much."

* * *

><p><strong>IT DOESN'T END HERE! Just reminding you all ; )<strong>

**PS: For those who wanted full out sex and smut, I'm sorry if you were disappointed but they are NOT in that place yet. Think 'The Notebook' 'first time' scene that was WONDERFULLY AWKWARD and so much more incredible for it – I could never think to achieve THAT but it's what I was going for plenty of words, thoughts but a whole bunch of insane feelings.  
>Just wait for the Epilogue : ) <strong>

**I'm writing on the train every morning and so will have this all finished very soon. Thank you, as always, for your patience – you lovely people!**


	19. Courage

Title: Wild Horses - Epilogue Part 1A  
><span>Word Count<span>: ~8,000  
><span>Warnings:<span> AU (using as much canon as possible but a little out of order)  
><span>Rating:<span> On the edge of NC-17  
><span>Summary:<span> A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

**Author's Notes**  
>I was going to wait to post the first part of the Epilogue in one go but it really does have two very distinct parts and I thought I'd split it so I didn't leave it as long between updates.<br>As you will no doubt realise, I adore Burt Hummel. I love writing Burt/Kurt so I hope you enjoy their scenes. Plus, there's the return of their non face-to-face communication which I'm a little bit obsessed with writing. There's plenty of togetherness too, though ;)  
>Thank you to everyone who left such lovely reviews on the last Chapter. Seriously, I was more than a little bowled over by them!<p>

Big thank you to the lovely **ccmskatechick** for being just the most wonderful help as always.

* * *

><p><strong>TWO WEEKS LATER<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>WarblerBlaine: <strong>Hey You!

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Why hello

**WarblerBlaine: **How was your day?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Eventful...

**WarblerBlaine: **Sounds ominous? You ok?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Oh I'M fine. Finn might be currently putting his fist through his bedroom wall or maybe he's crying into his cheap polyester pillows. Either way, he's not happy.

**WarblerBlaine: **Rachel stuff?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Jesse St James stuff.

**WarblerBlaine: **Who's he? You've never mentioned him before.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **You don't know who Jesse St James is?

**WarblerBlaine: **No... Should I?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Vocal Adrenaline?

**WarblerBlaine: **Oh, Wes talks about them.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Wow, Blaine. Wow. He's only show choir royalty in our region.

**WarblerBlaine: **I see. So, what's he doing at your school and what's that got to do with Finn?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **There was a whole THING with Jesse and Rachel. The dated. He was Vocal Adrenaline's front man. He was Shelby Corcoran's little pet robot and it turned out Shelby was Rachel's mom and Jesse was her spy to get closer to Rachel. She did get closer only to end up breaking Rachel's heart leaving her to wear a hideous attempt to recreate Lady GaGa...

**Getoffofmyrunway: **TOY FROGS, BLAINE. GaGa is the height of creativity but I was in pain when she wore THAT.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Anyway! Jesse broke her heart too. She was in love with him and they were pretty perfect together in a way. Both obnoxious and equally matched in ambition and self centred tendencies. You'd think them delusional until you heard them sing together. To cut a long story short, there was a whole Finn thing. He loved her, she was with Jesse... Jesse made breakfast on her head.

**WarblerBlaine: **What?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **What part of that didn't you understand, Blaine?

**WarblerBlaine: **I'll roll with it. So, why is he back?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Apparently to make an honest woman out of Rachel but of course, in true dramatic style, she's taken. I swear that girl cannot function without drama at her feet. It's what gets her up in the morning.

**WarblerBlaine: **Pot calling kettle?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Shut up.

**WarblerBlaine: **; )

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Stop that. So, not cute when they follow an insult.

**WarblerBlaine: **I'm right though, aren't I?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **So what if you are? Doesn't make your words any less cutting.

**WarblerBlaine: **You're cute when you're angry, even through chat.

**WarblerBlaine: **Kurt?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I'm ignoring you.

**WarblerBlaine: **Badly.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE.

**WarblerBlaine: **You like it.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **No I do not.

**WarblerBlaine: **Then why are you still talking to me?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **BECAUSE.

**WarblerBlaine: **Because you think I'm right and you find my ability to be honest with you, refreshing and charming.

**Getoffofmyrunway**: You're delusional.

**Getoffofmyrunway:** But kind of right.

**WarblerBlaine: **:*

**Getoffofmyrunway: **What's that meant to be?

**WarblerBlaine: **A kiss.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Oh. Never seen one of those before.

**WarblerBlaine: **Well :* :* :* :* :* :* :*

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Stop being inappropriate over chat, Blaine.

**WarblerBlaine: **Ok, I'll just wait until we're in person then shall I?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **That's a MUCH better idea.

**WarblerBlaine: **Flirt.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Says the person sending virtual kisses. OK THIS CONVERSATION HAS DERAILED NOW!

**WarblerBlaine: **Ok, hahahahahaha! Tell me what you were going to tell me. I'll behave.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **It's not in your nature.

**WarblerBlaine: **True but I'll try.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **OK! Well, he's back and Finn's upset because Rachel has fickle streak to rival the River Nile so, he's scared. She's all for drama but she loves Finn. That, I know. I just applaud Jesse's timing though. Prom's coming up.

**WarblerBlaine: **Do you think she'd go with him?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **No. I don't think so. He's just a complication. She's giddy because as of today, Mr Schue has us writing songs. This is all apparently 'song writing gold'. The ways that girl can turn a situation around astounds me... even after all this time.

**WarblerBlaine: **That sounds fun! Nationals?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Yes.

**WarblerBlaine: **So? Anything written so far?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Blaine. You met the New Directions.

**WarblerBlaine: **I did.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **So you'll be well aware of the fact that nobody is going to pen the next 'Both Sides Now' or 'My Way'. The songs they've come up with. Jesus.

**WarblerBlaine: **Bad?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Horrific. I'm going to have nightmares. So much worse than before. WAY WORSE.

**WarblerBlaine: **So, anything else up?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I'm talking too much. Tell me about you.

**WarblerBlaine: **Ok : ) I bought that polo we saw a few weeks ago, the deep purple one. I had an essay on Salinger to finish and it's done. The amount of time I typed 'red hunting hat'. Stupid book. There's something so contrived about coming of age stories. I'm sure Mr Grady will love the fact that I said much the same thing but with much more eloquence in my essay!

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Feisty!

**WarblerBlaine: **I thought so ; ) Apart from that, we had a family meal and Dad was ok. The Warblers all went to the movies so that was fun. Jeff threw so much popcorn at Nick that I found bits in my shoe when I got home.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **That sounds... nice.

**WarblerBlaine: **It was : )

**WarblerBlaine: **So, it sucks that I can't see you until the weekend.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I know. STUPID OBLIGATIONS.

**WarblerBlaine: **Well, you have a hit song to pen so I can't be put out!

**Getoffofmyrunway: **We'll be lucky if we have a chorus written before Nationals but that's us. Woefully underprepared but ever the optimists. I blame Mr Schue and his bad planning. Rachel and I could run that Glee club with our eyes shut but just as long as I could slip her a sedative now and then!

**WarblerBlaine: **So when's Prom?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Next Friday.

**WarblerBlaine: **Still not going?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **No. Mercedes isn't either. I'm boycotting. It'll be tacky paper streamers and awful music. I think I'd much rather do something with you... or you know just sit at home and scream into my pillow.

**WarblerBlaine: **Do you WANT to go?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Of course I WANT to go, Blaine. I've always wanted to go to my Junior Prom. This is ME. Kurt Hummel. Prom was created for people like me but don't tell anyone else that, I have a reputation to keep.

**WarblerBlaine: **What? Of being nonchalant and over and above it all?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Exactly.

**WarblerBlaine: **But that's not you. Not really.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Well just as long as you know that.

**WarblerBlaine: **I do. Course I do. Our letters were good for something!

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Speaking of, my Dad asked why our mailbox was so empty of late and I might have told him about you and I.

**WarblerBlaine: **Oh wow. What did he say?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Not much, really. He was pleased I think and maybe a little freaked but that's to be expected. Not every day your gay song reveals a secret pen pal boyfriend.

**WarblerBlaine: **True. Can you imagine if I told my Dad? Actually, don't imagine. That's an awful thing to think of.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Do you think he'd ever want to meet me or... you know...?

**WarblerBlaine: **Kurt, I'd love him to meet you. My mom too. Just, not yet.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I understand, it's ok. Just my Dad's a little ahead of the curve. There's a sentence I never thought I'd be typing.

**WarblerBlaine: **Your dad's awesome : )

**Getoffofmyrunway: **He is indeed. He might want to meet you.

**WarblerBlaine: **I need to purchase a 'meet the parents' appropriate outfit.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Wear what you usually wear, That'll do just fine, Blaine. My Dad wears a tear like it's a fashion accessory. Just maybe leave that brown shirt in your closet.

**WarblerBlaine: **I like that shirt.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **No you don't.

**WarblerBlaine: **Um, I DO.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **No you DON'T Blaine.

**WarblerBlaine: **Because you don't?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Got it in one. Now, what are you doing on Friday?

**WarblerBlaine: **Free as a bird, why?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Do you want to come over to meet him?

**WarblerBlaine: **Sure! Ok now I'm nervous

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Don't be. It won't be for long unfortunately because it's Friday Night Dinner and as much as I'd love you to be there to hold my hand under the table, I think maybe we should get the whole 'Hi I'm the boy dating your son' moment out of the way first. Is that ok with you?

**WarblerBlaine: **Definitely. There'll be other Fridays.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Tons! Maybe you can help me prepare the food one week? You can be my Sous Chef!

**WarblerBlaine: **Kinky.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Oh my god. On that note I need to go sew a button on my Marc Jacobs Jumpsuit. I can't leave it buttonless for much longer, it's making my blood pressure spike.

**WarblerBlaine: **Hahaha. You're adorable. Ok.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I'll text you tomorrow?

**WarblerBlaine: **Definitely. I'm performing in the afternoon so don't be mad if I don't reply straight away.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Get you! That's fine though. Setlist?

**WarblerBlaine: **The Black Kids and Wes and David suggested a Rod Stewart number but I'm not sure. I'll see tomorrow.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Sounds inventive.

**WarblerBlaine: **It'll be fun to perform regardless. Ok, I'll let you get to your needle and thread.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Urgh. I sound like a fifties housewife.

**WarblerBlaine: **It'd explain a lot.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I hate you.

**WarblerBlaine: **What a pleasant way to end our chat.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **As always!

**WarblerBlaine: **Mi Manchi : (

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Bisses :*

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

Blaine pulled on his blazer, swinging his bag over his shoulder and wincing as the weight of it strained his muscles. Nearing the end of year meant more work and bigger books.

The house was always empty as he hopped down the stairs, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table by the door. Both parents were always already out and about.

As he locked the door with a click, a cough came from behind. He turned to find Joe at the end of the drive by the mailbox.

"Mornin'!"

Blaine smiled. Joe was the kind of guy that you just _knew _he'd be an incredible father. His smile was warm, eyes kind and he had a way about him that suggested he would be perfectly at home with the kids rolling around in Autumn leaves or building sandcastles on the beach.

Blaine made his way down the drive, thinking exactly how much he wanted to be _that _kind of guy in the future, for his own kids – and there would be some if he had his way – to look at him and know he was someone they could be come to for fun and the more serious things in life.

"Hi Joe. Any mail?"

Joe grinned, lopsided and goofy. "Not as much as before. That guy of yours stop writing?"

Blaine ducked his head with a smirk. "No, actually. We just, um," he could feel himself blushing, "don't need to write letters anymore."

"Oh." Joe's eyes shone, teasing. "So life's treatin' you well then, Blaine?"

"It is. How are your family?"

"Oh very well, all of them just as mad as frogs but there's no other way to be is there?"

Blaine laughed softly, thinking to his own quite reserved childhood and the relationship with his parents and finally to Kurt's beautiful tea parties. "No, there isn't. That sounds great."

"I do miss that kid's decoration on your letters. Sure brightened up my postal run. I remember that week he'd glued streamers to the corners of the envelope. Got stuck in the mechanisms down at the sortin' office and I _knew _it'd be for you!"

Blaine had to laugh, stomach swooping. Kurt was just _something else. _

"Well, it _is _a shame we don't write anymore but I suppose there's no need when I can tell him things in person."

"Can't deny that," Joe laughed, slotting the pile of letters in his hand down deep into his bag. "But it's a dying part of society now. It was nice to see youngsters taking advantage of it."

It had been the best way to get to know someone that Blaine could think of. It was true that people just didn't think to write any longer; emails were easier, quicker, cheaper but completely void of the magic of communication. Everything about their time writing to each other felt so _special._

"It was nice to be written to and to post a letter to someone."

Joe beamed. "Good to hear! And I'm happy that it's all working out for you, kid. Your parents must be thrilled."

Blaine swallowed. _If only_.

"Yeah."

"Well I better make sure the rest of the block gets their post or else there'll be riots in the street."

Blaine nodded, offering a smile. "Thanks Joe. Have a nice day."

With a quick salute to the peak of his red baseball cap, Joe walked away.

Once in the car, Blaine felt his phone vibrate against his hip.

* * *

><p><strong>Santana's taking Britt to the prom! MAJOR DRAMA AT MCKINLEY. Kurt xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx<strong>

_Wow. As in 'taking her'?_

**Kind of. Britt nonchalantly mentioned it in Glee Club and Santana didn't deny it. You should have seen her little self satisfied smile. You think she's... NO. Actually, no. She can't be.**

_Maybe she's a lesbian._

**My life will have been a lie if that's true. She can't be.**

_But maybe she is._

**I'm going to investigate today. Oh and Sam might be leaving McKinley. It's so sad. He and Quinn had a fight after Jacob Ben Israel reported they'd been in a motel together and posted the headline – "Head Bitch Preggo again? Beiber books motel room!" **

_What is in the water over there? :S_

**No idea but Sam pulled me to once side in Math today and asked to speak to me. At lunch he told me his dad lost his job and times are tough. They're LIVING in that motel, Blaine. It's so awful.**

_That's really sad. Is he ok? x x x x_

**Not really. He hasn't told any of Glee Club except Quinn which is why she's been seen with him. She's been babysitting his little brother and sister. He asked me if I had any clothes I was thinking of giving to Good Will. Anyway, he was so embarrassed and I didn't know what to do. I took a bag over to him though.**

_Aww Kurt. That's really good of you. I bet he was grateful xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**I just hope he's ok. He's a nice guy and Quinn is actually being honourable for once so their situation sucks. He's angry though – lots of fighting going on. I'm just keeping out of it to be honest. It's none of my business but I know what ND are like. They're well meaning but intrusive. **

_You're doing the right thing xxxxxxxxxxxxx _

**Thank you x x x x x x **

**This screws up their prom plans though. Quinn was heading the race for Queen but obviously now her King is homeless and possibly leaving, she's NOT HAPPY. Funny how she can go from Miss Helpful to wonderfully self centred in a heartbeat.**

_She'll no doubt regret it. You said it was really important to her?_

**It's pretty much her goal in life. Weird but true.**

_You still not going? Might be fun to see the drama unfold?_

**Coach Sylvester asked Glee Club to provide the entertainment so I know that Mercedes is going now. She's singing and Rachel asked her to tag along with them. I'm still not going. Jesse's disappeared. Something about a punch up in the auditorium earlier. BLAINE WHY ARE YOU NOT HERE? You're so lovely and normal.**

Blaine grinned helplessly. Kurt had a way of doing that. He'd say something so flippant but it'd be so laced with meaning and feeling that Blaine would spend the entire day thinking about it. He knew right then that he'd be distracted for hours.

_I WISH I was but alas, I have Warblers rehearsal for a show we have at a kindergarten next week. Plus, I have a quiz in Lit. Sucks to be me._

**Nice Broadway reference there, honey.**

_Avenue Q?_

**Of course xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx (if I was there I'd kiss you for that)**

_I'm skipping school. That's it! _

**We can dream. *sigh* xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I'm seeing you soon though, aren't I?_

**FRIDAY! xoxo**

* * *

><p>Blaine pocketed his phone with a deep sigh.<p>

During the drive to school, the one thing that Blaine couldn't push out of his mind was Kurt's prom. Keeping his eyes on the road, he focused but let his mind ponder during the periods at stop signs and crossings.

The Sadie Hawkins dance had been a nightmare – an actual living hell – but it had also been the catalyst of one of the biggest changes of his life so far. Being at Dalton was great and he knew he wouldn't change it for anything but Kurt was living the life that Blaine would have had, if his old school hadn't betrayed him so badly.

The thought of going to a prom or school dance was frightening. Kurt's school was hardly comfortable with the idea of same sex couples but if Kurt's friends felt able to go together then that was definitely positive. Still, the memories of Daniel's cries for help and the dull aches and pinching stabbing pains were easy to pull up to the forefront of his memory. They would never go away and that was a fact.

He'd missed out on a lot but also gained so much. It was odd how different Dalton felt compared to Kurt's stories of McKinley. It was smoother, simpler and so draped in tradition; that was all wonderful and the values of Dalton Academy were ones Blaine shared himself but sometimes there was that niggling wish to see how the other side lived.

The Prom was a chance to do that. Kurt wanted to go and he had either failed to consider that Blaine could attend, was avoiding the entire event due to fear, stubbornness or insecurity or he was possibly waiting for Blaine to ask. It was unlikely that it was the latter as Kurt was more than capable of asking himself. It was much more likely that Kurt was avoiding the issue altogether.

This was an event that everyone had the right to experience once in their lives and one which Kurt was clearly and not even so secretly giddy about.

It was so obvious that it shouldn't be so tempting but it was. As he turned the corner into Dalton's car park, Blaine slumped in the seat and closed off the engine. It would be tough, facing those things again and spending an entire night with the New Directions but meeting Kurt and witnessing his bravery first hand had been something of a life changing experience.

No way could people touch them. People could fight physically, emotionally and in every other conceivable way against them but they could never ever take away the feelings and what Blaine knew he had with Kurt. Kurt was so right. Knowing how difficult his own father found it and the strain it had placed on their relationship, Blaine couldn't help but wish to be anything other than _that. _He'd run and he'd taken a much easier route but it had been so necessary. Anything beyond that, any further avoidance of _life _when it simply was not necessary was edging towards cowardice.

That mind set could allow such amazing life experiences – the ones most teens relished – to just sail by.

They could be careful and discreet and still enjoy the night without drawing any attention to them as a being a 'couple'. It was a risk but it was worth taking. The thought of looking at Kurt under the twinkle of fairy lights was an image too perfect to opt out of experiencing in real life and it could be arranged so easily and so quickly.

Blaine hopped out of the car, pulse a little off beat with re-visited memories and the promise of putting things right and trying again. He knew exactly what he'd do.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Kurt,<em>

_ Guess who? This feels so odd because I could so easily do this face-to-face with you looking at me in the way you do but it felt right to do this properly, in a way that was fitting to us._

_I told you about my experiences at my school dance a couple of years back and I told you that because I felt I could trust you. Most of the Warblers don't know the real reason I was a mid-year transfer and even some of my family are unaware but __**you**__ know and I wanted it to be that way. _

_It was a really difficult time in my life and it changed the way I looked at things. I stopped seeing my sexuality as positive sometimes, I stopped embracing it and expressing myself in the way I always had done. When I joined the Warblers, I found a new way to be me. I love it and I wouldn't alter it now but that evening changed me for good._

_Getting to know you and hearing about our experiences and even going through a couple of them with you, I realised just how little has changed. I'm so sorry you had to go through such painful things but I know you're past that now and you got through it with integrity and grace. Not many people would have been able to do that._

_I still get angry. Very angry actually, and I know you didn't think I was helpful at your Night of Neglect when HE was there but I can't help that Kurt and I hope you understand. __**Nobody **__stood by me and told others to back off. Nobody fought for me and I won't stand by and watch the same horrors happen to someone I care about, no matter who that may be._

_I know I've missed out on things since I've been at Dalton. I've gained a lot but I appreciate how much we're wrapped in silk and cotton wool here. We're so protected from the harshness and rough edges of the world. People here are often very comfortable financially or privileged and those who aren't, like me, are mostly from extremely conservative families. Usually, the kids of Dalton don't need to see the darkness in the world because their chances of meeting it are greatly reduced by the lives they'll inevitably enter when they leave. _

_I know that my life will never be simple. It can be amazing and vibrant and exciting and full of so much love and success because I believe that for everyone who wants it but I know that being who I am does not make for an easy life. I don't care about this too much, as long as I have someone to share it with or I find a way of life that suits me._

_I'm rambling so much but I wanted to write this to you. I could say it to your face, I know that, but sometimes it's hard to or I just don't want to interrupt our time together with something so depressing. _

_You've talked about your Prom. You mentioned how much it meant to you and how you'd love to go but you'd chosen not to._

_If you've chosen that way because you truly don't want to go for a specific reason then tell me but if not, and if you've chosen because you don't think you have anyone to go with then I'm saying that I will be your date._

_In fact, I want to be your date if you'd like that?_

_It's a sore spot for me, one that scares me and intimidates me but I don't want to be like that forever. It's only a school dance and if we're careful and sensible then I don't see why we can't go._

_I want it to be something we do together. What do you think?_

_I can't wait to see you in a couple of days._

_Lots of Love, _

_B _

* * *

><p>"Oh my god," Kurt squeaked as the door opened. Arms were quickly thrown around Blaine's neck, squeezing tight. "I got your letter. I got it this morning and I haven't been able to concentrate on anything all day because all I wanted to do was see you and tell you yes. Yes, I'd love to. Of course I'd love to. I can't believe you asked me and wrote to me again."<p>

Kurt's breath tickled Blaine's neck as he smiled, wrapping his arms around Kurt's middle and up to hold his shoulders in place.

"So we're going?"

Kurt drew back, hands still on Blaine's chest. "Yes. Yes, please. Only if you are _sure." _ Kurt's eyes were suddenly serious, searching.

"I wouldn't have written what I did if I wasn't."

It was the truth and, for a moment, Blaine allowed himself to breathe freely, safe in the knowledge his was going to defy anyone who ever told him he _couldn't _do anything he wanted to. He would. They would.

"Nobody has ever done anything like this for me," Kurt sighed, eyes dazed. "I didn't want to go alone for the whole school to think 'oh there's the lonely gay kid' because I'm not lonely, not anymore and I don't want or need their pity. I don't want to be seen like that and I just didn't want to be third wheel to anyone. Mercedes wasn't going to budge either until Rachel convinced her."

Blaine smiled, running his fingertips down Kurt's arms to his hands. "You deserve to have a wonderful night."

"So do you."

Laughing softly, Blaine leaned in and felt Kurt's eyelashes flutter closed and into the kiss.

Blaine's hands played with Kurt's fingers for a moment before trailing slowly to pull him closer, sliding along his jaw with a deep breath that sucked the air from between them. Kurt felt his head spin. They didn't move, just kissed hard and close for a moment.

Blaine was the one to stop, hands dropping to Kurt's shoulders with a sigh. "I missed you."

"No Latin this time?"

With a smirk, Blaine ducked his head. "No. I thought it might be losing its charm."

Kurt couldn't help but bite his lip into a smile, gazing into Blaine's eyes. How they were so honest, so guarded yet sparkling with so much life was a conundrum that Kurt knew he'd spent forever trying to solve; Blaine's eyes were the kind to get lost in. Kurt could never shake the desperate need to be closer to him, to crawl inside his skin and take away every bad feeling, every negative harboured emotion that threatened at the surface. Blaine was so _good _but there was an ever present flicker of something that crossed his face or flashed in his eyes every now and then that made Kurt fierce with protection. Blaine had been nothing but supportive and even when he'd pushed it a little too far, he'd done it for such understandable reasons and Kurt just wanted to get lost in their moments, to curl up together and spend time breathing together, touching, talking, sharing and learning. Blaine was the kind to always make an effort. He _tried_. Kurt knew he'd cherish that fact always.

It had to be love.

"Just so you know," Kurt said simply, shoulders swaying a little, "you can talk to me in Latin as much as you wish. Throw some Italian in and I'm-"

"You're what?" Blaine's eyes glittered, playful and full of humor.

"Yours."

Kurt's face fell serious and Blaine caught his breath before pressing his lips to Kurt and dragging him as close as physically possible.

After a moment, Kurt smiled as they leaned apart, his own fingers reaching to tangle with Blaine's. It was amazing to know he had permission to do that now and the simple act of it was so fused with everything their relationship was grounded on: support, trust, honesty and care.

Blaine's fingers tickled at Kurt's palm. "Are you sure he's ready to meet me?"

With a dream-like smile and sigh of mock exasperation, Kurt nodded.

"Of course I'm sure. He's my dad not Satan himself. _Come on, _he's around the corner in the garage."

Blaine allowed himself to be tugged along. They hadn't discussed it at length -meeting the parents - but Blaine had a feeling that meeting Burt Hummel was high on Kurt's priority list. Burt was the most important person in Kurt's life so it was inevitable that the awkward moment would come sooner rather than later.

There was just a weird and almost horrifying unspoken knowledge between the parent and the significant other of their child. Blaine had seen enough rom coms to know how catastrophic these situations could be; there were no skeletons in his closet so there was hope.

The garage was large, spacious and just on the right side of cluttered for a well functioning business. Blaine pictured his own father in such an environment and he stifled a laugh - no way. Two burly guys in navy overalls were bent double over a car, laughing roughly, their hands making clacking noises against the engines with their tools. Everything felt heightened, louder, more invasive and Blaine wondered if one could die from a wrench to the head.

"Dad," Kurt eventually said, hand shaking where it was clasped tight in Blaine's, "this is Blaine."

The first thing that crossed Blaine's mind was the complete and utter lack of similarity between father and son. Burt was broad and burly like the other guys in the garage, Kurt was lithe and shapely. Burt stomped and shuffled, Kurt glided through life with sharp shoulders and a skip in his step. Burt had a smudge of grease on his arm, Kurt smelled of hint of rose hand cream and wore only the brightest whites. They were so different, yet Blaine couldn't help but smile at the one thing they had in common - their eyes. Not as pretty as Kurt's - obviously - but Burt's were kind, warm and just a little bit terrifying.

"Good to meet you, Blaine."

This was his moment. "You too, Sir. Kurt's told me a lot about you, mostly in his letters."

Clichéd but it was fine, it'd do.

"Hell, I can't remember the last time someone called me Sir. Please, christ, call me Burt. And yes, the letters. Kurt told me about how you two, er, met. You still do that?" he waved his hand between them, a thin veil of awkwardness across his eyes, "you know, the writing thing?"

Kurt let go of Blaine's hand, Burt's eyes tracking down for a moment and catching Blaine's wide-eyed panic. He smirked a little but Blaine was still sure he was going to throw up.

"No. We write sometimes but Blaine doesn't live too far away, remember?" Kurt added.

"Sure. So, you go to that Dalton school? The one with the suits and ties?"

Blaine nodded, gesturing to his chest where he'd chosen a sweater, shirt and tie combo. "Hard to break the habit of a lifetime."

Burt chuckled to himself and turned to the car under scrutiny. The laugh was genuine and Blaine felt his shoulders relax.

Kurt sat on a near-by stool, fingers clasped over his knee. "Blaine's in a Glee Club too. They're called the Warblers. They're an acapella group, you know, like on the show Carole watches?"

"Oh yea," Burt groaned, "gotta remember to record that for her." He tossed a rag over his shoulder and turned to Blaine. "So you sing like Kurt?"

As Burt turned his back, Kurt ducked his head to catch Blaine's eye. Smiling gently, he shrugged his shoulders in affection. Immediately, everything felt fine. There were no tools aimed for his cranium, so Blaine felt able to breathe and give Kurt a soft smile in return.

Knowing that Burt Hummel didn't hate him made the world of difference.

"Yes. I love to sing. We actually competed against Kurt's Glee Club a while ago."

He glanced at Kurt who chuckled bashfully, rolling his eyes and silently communicating. They both knew how huge those moments had been. The first time they'd 'seen' one another and the first time they'd 'met'.

Burt caught the look. His face was quite blank for a second but he raised his eyebrow a little and looked to Blaine with a small smile. "What do you like to do then, Blaine?"

With a deep breath, Blaine smoothed down his pants at the thigh. "Well, aside from performing, I love to read, I am a bit of a movie fiend too. I love sport-"

"Team?" Burt asked, lightening quick.

"Buckeyes." Kurt shook his head at the sight in front of him. It was too difficult to believe it was real.

Burt nodded, impressed. "Well, not that you'll get Kurt to watch a game without his running commentary or complaining that he's missing some show with anorexic girls in cow hide dresses or hats made from traffic cones, but if you're ever around when there's a game on then you're welcome to join, kid." Kurt knew he was smiling far too obviously but it wasn't possible to hold it in.

Blaine blinked, heart aching. He couldn't remember the last time his own father had made such an offer. "Thank you. I'd like that."

"Well," Burt said, hiding his smile as he turned back to the car, "Kurt'll no doubt try to talk you out of it. My kid's persuasive when he wants to be but don't let 'im win, ok?"

Blaine laughed, looking to Kurt who was open mouthed, faking his anger. "Excuse me," Kurt complained, hands on his hips, "who made you and Finn homemade dip for your unhealthy non-heart attack friendly chips last week while you watched the ice hockey or whatever?"

Burt groaned and shook his head at Blaine. "He's never going to let me forget that one."

"Not when you paint me to be some demon who ruins everyone's fun," Kurt huffed, standing up suddenly, shoulder just resting against Blaine's. "Anyway, Blaine can't stay long and I need to start on dinner so, we'll leave you to it, Dad."

Blaine felt dizzy. Their relationship was so blunt and quite adorable. The depth of their connection and honesty was so obvious. It only hurt for a moment to know that he'd never truly shared a moment remotely similar with his own father.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr Hum- I mean, Burt."

"Nice to meet you too, Blaine."

With that, Kurt tugged him out of the garage and back along the house. "He likes you."

Blaine could still feel his hands shaking. "You think?"

"I do," Kurt beamed, somewhat light headed with relief and gratitude. He had wonderful men in his life, that was for sure.

"He's great." It was one hell of an understatement but Blaine watched Kurt's chest swell with pride and knew it was enough.

"Well, you officially survived. How do you feel?"

Blaine laughed a little, reaching to play with the tendrils of knotted silk along the edge of Kurt's scarf. "Happy."

A little breathless, Kurt nodded. "Me too. It's still a little astounding, really."

After a kiss that lasted much too long for the middle of Kurt's street, Blaine forced himself to walk away, his arm only returning back to his side once the very tips of Kurt's fingers broke contact.

Rolling his eyes affectionately, Kurt waved goodbye and watched until Blaine disappeared at the end of the road.

* * *

><p>~o~o~oOo~o~o~<p>

"So?" Kurt asked, tentative and just a little bit nervous. The 'talking to parents about significant others' thing was a renowned moment of complete and memory imprinting pain.

"What?" Burt frowned, wiping his hands on a dirty rag and began counting out what appeared to be nuts and bolts or something.

"Blaine. What did you think of Blaine?"

"He's short."

Kurt groaned loudly. He pulled the cloth holding the screws causing Burt to glance up affronted. "Hey!"

"I'm serious, Dad. I want to know what you thought." Kurt knew it was hard. It was difficult for any parent, having to adjust to dating and their child's love life but Kurt was fully aware of how much harder it was for his dad. Being a gay son and one that hadn't so much as talked about guys except for in a round-about way had to be hard.

"Well, I'm reserving judgement 'cause for all his politeness and smart clothes, the kid puts a foot out of line, upsets you, breaks your heart, pressures you or whatever else breaks the code then I'm forced to want to break the kid's legs. It's what Dads do, Kurt." He seemed happy with his assessment so turned back to the car and wiped off a part of the engine.

Kurt coughed pointedly, perching on a stool. It wasn't enough. "I get it. It's weird seeing me with a guy-"

"Hey! Who said that? I didn't say that."

Kurt frowned, glancing down. "Well, why won't you tell me what you thought. Honestly. And without the sarcasm and whole macho Dad routine?"

Burt flung the cloth over his shoulder and sat too, sighing into the chair.

"Look, he seems like a good kid. He does. He's exactly the kind of person I thought you'd go for. You like the same stuff, he says please and thank you, calls people Sir. He was clean, unthreatening, has no visible piercings, tattoos and I'm presuming he's carryin' a clean criminal record if he's hauled up in that posh school, plus he's obviously smitten with you if the looks he was giving you are anything to go by," Kurt blushed furiously, "so I've got no complaints but apart from that, he's the kid who is ultimately dating my son so it's not really my place to judge unless," he smirked, "the code's broken and I round up the guys here and we go round to slash his tires."

"Dad!"

Burt laughed to himself, obviously amused at his own joke. "Joking! Joking! Kurt, you like him. Right?"

With a pale blush creeping up his cheekbones and sparking an unavoidable softness in his eyes, Kurt smiled. "I do."

"See," Burt grinned, shaking his head, "how can I complain about this guy when he makes you look like that? You're a crazy sharp judge of character, just like your mom so I trust you. Just don't let me down. Be smart."

"I will, Dad. Blaine's not like other guys-"

"They're not until they are and I'm carrying cammomile tea and chocolate up to your room while you cry into a pillow."

"He won't hurt me, Dad. He's had some of the same troubles as me when it comes to being gay and in high school but he had it even worse than me and he just asked if I wanted him to be my date to my Junior Prom. He is putting aside some heavy stuff _for me. _He's _nice, _Dad. He really is."

"Yea, well. Like I said, he's a good kid and seems to think the sun sets with you so I trust you. But, like I said, keep him well informed about the various giant wrenches, saws and electrical probes I got hangin' around here and maybe he won't let me down."

Kurt had to smile. His father was nothing if not honest and it was the best thing in the world. Kurt knew he could say anything and he'd have the full and genuine reaction from his dad, no matter how painful.

"Mom was a good judge of character?" Kurt asked after a while. There was never too much to learn about her.

Burt glanced down into the engine for a moment, brow creased until a tenderness tugged at his features. "The best kind. She was a sappy thing like you," he smiled, rolling his eyes, "but you get your spirit from her. She'd take no prisoners either. She'd be the first to fire a quick witted reply. Part of the reason I liked her so much when I met her."

"Yeah?" Kurt curled his arm around his waist, hugging it to himself.

"You're more like her than you know, kid. Just wish she was here to do all this with you too. I've got a suspicion she'd have wrapped that boy of yours in a blanket and adopted 'im right out."

Kurt's heart ached, his eyes tearing up immediately. He couldn't cry - they didn't do that to each other - but it felt so special to know about his mom in the ways he hadn't quite experienced.

"You think so?"

Burt chuckled to himself, tinkering with a valve. "She used to talk about you growing up and how she couldn't wait to see how you'd turn out and who you'd bring home. She'd joke about how I'd be there with a big stick waiting at the door. Still, she never said it'd be a girlfriend. Never specified."

It was so much to take in. Kurt felt his pulse quicken, a strange sort of pained desperation to know her, to ask her about everything he'd ever wondered.

"How did you know she was a good judge of character? What did she do?"

Burt smirked, throwing a dirty tool on the bench as he straightened up. "Married me, didn't she?"

Kurt laughed, eyes crinkling. "Questionable taste really, then, huh?"

"Nah, impeccable, kid. She knew a good thing."

Kurt dusted off his jeans with a beaming smile, the one he knew he reserved only for his father. "Well, I guess I better go get on with some homework before helping Carole with the dinner. With New York looming, I need to make time for outfit planning and Rachel and I want to plan our Broadway debut."

Burt nodded along with the smile he reserved for moments when he didn't understand but felt Kurt's passion regardless.

As Kurt reached the shiny metal doorway, Burt coughed loudly.

"Tell Blaine he's welcome whenever, ok?"

Kurt sighed happily, hands clasping together to control the giddiness inside. "I will, Dad. Thank you."

"But remember... giant wrenches, saws and electrical probes."

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes and a skip in his step, Kurt left the garage and headed for a couple of hours of algebra. Nothing could be tedious when life left you breathlessly happy.

* * *

><p><strong>~tbc<strong>

**I'll have the next part up as SOON as I possibly can!**


	20. In Every Tense

**Title: **Wild Horses - Epilogue Part 1B  
><strong><span>Word Count<span>: **~5,000  
><strong><span>Warnings:<span>** AU (using as much canon as possible but a little out of order)  
><strong><span>Rating:<span>** PG-13 for this chapter  
><strong><span>Summary:<span>** A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

**Author's Notes**  
>I am just ridiculous. I was doing so well with keeping everything together but once I started writing one particular scene, it felt really important so I wanted to keep it in and then I reached a point where I wanted this entire Chapter to be separate.<br>This is all VERY MUCH the changes in their lives. How they're coming to terms with things, how everything is altering very slightly and I liked it being contained in one Chapter. I hope you don't mind me splitting it!

As you'll see, Prom begins immediately in Part C!

Thank you to everyone who has been reccing this so much lately. Thank You. So much. 3  
>Big thank you to <strong>ccmskatechick<strong> as always for her attention and loveliness and to **whenidance** who is to thank for the ending being finished already ;)

* * *

><p>"Just don't move."<p>

"Kurt, um, Kurt!"

Rachel yelped, hand flying to her mouth. "Sorry!" she rushed out, half giggling with enormous eyes as she twisted to glare down. "Just... your hand. Sorry it's just I know you're gay but it's not every day that someone has their hand-"

"Stop talking, Rachel." Kurt shook his head, bewildered. She really was insane sometimes. He focused on his fingers and ignored her babbling.

"Ok, now turn," he urged, tugging the taffeta down as she turned, swirling on the spot with her arms gracefully poised as if to jete or pirouette.

"How do I look?" she sang, eyes glistening. Kurt couldn't lie. She looked spectacular, with added thanks to his handiwork. The dress had been delivered a couple of inches too long and as Rachel was, as Santana so kindly put it, a little on the hobbitted side, she needed it to be hemmed up.

"Well," Kurt teased, standing and cocking a hip, hand on his chin, "it looks better than before."

She narrowed her eyes playfully, fluffing up the pink layers with a pointed glare. "Well, I think I look like a princess. I certainly feel like one. Now we just need to find Finn a pink bow tie and cummerbund to match and he'll be my prince. Oh," she gasped, half dancing, "I feel like Cinderella or Eliza Dolittle. Post make-over."

Kurt bit back a giggle. "Just as long as I'm spared your rendition of 'I could have danced all night."

She giggled herself, bouncing on the balls of her dainty bare feet. "I cannot promise anything. When a song hits me, it begs to be sung."

As she hummed along to herself, Kurt busied his hands with the multitude of needles, threads and pins lying scattered on the table. They'd managed to use a classroom of an evening under the guise of Glee Club Costume Preparations so Kurt had all of the girls - even Santana - sweetening him up and almost batting their eyelids in hope that he'd make them shine for their special night.

"Ok, next!" Kurt shouted as Rachel twirled her way to sit across from them, crossing her legs with an "oomph" as she sat into a cloud of pink.

Tina crept out, hands self consciously smoothing her straps. "What do you think? I love the color but don't know if it fits right."

It looked stunning. Tina had always been his female fashionisa; their tastes were completely different but Kurt couldn't help but admire her bold choices, unusual cuts and striking colours. She wore black beautifully but when in a bright blue or a solid red, she looked radical and amazing. "The color is to die for," he sighed but pulled her arm so she came closer. "The straps are the problem. Spaghetti straps don't compliment your frame but not to worry. We can swing some net and part of this silk up and over for a neckline just like the rest of the dress and it'll be even more of a statement."

He began pinning and tugging gently and smiled to himself at the look of contentment on her face. "Thank you, Kurt. We're all so happy you decided to help. Getting a look past you is like getting a thumbs up from Joan Rivers. You're nicer though." She winked.

"I'm all human too," Kurt joked, "no plastic in me. I've got my own cheekbones too!"

Giggling, she squirmed to avoid the pins.

"Hummel!" Santana strutted out, hands on her hips and a smug smile on her face; every length of red silk clung to her frame in waves.

"Wow." Kurt gasped, pin clamped between his lips. He knew he'd regret his momentary lapse in judgement but she looked stunning. "As much as it pains me to say it, you look spectacular. Devil in a red dress."

"Roll your tongue back up," Santana drawled, posing as if on the red carpet. "I have my date already."

He'd been wanting to tell them all day. If truth be told, he'd been desperate to scream it at the top of his lungs - 'I have a gorgeous boyfriend and he wants to take me to prom!'

"I don't need your charity, thank you, Santana." He dragged her name out, eyebrows raised in protest. "I have a date of my own, I'll have you know."

"Whatever. Taking your imaginary friend doesn't count, Kurt. So lame."

Britt tipped her head around the corner of the changing booth. "Wait. Kurt has an imaginary friend? That's awesome!"

Rolling his eyes, Kurt groaned. "No. Look, I don't have anything of the sort but what I do have is a boy who wishes to escort me to my junior prom so... there."

The room was silent for a second. Rachel sprung up from the sofa, rushing to grab his hands; he blinked back at the intensity in her eyes. "Blaine? Oh Kurt, is it Blaine?"

He couldn't hold back the grin. At all. "Yes."

She squealed, Tina clapping and bounding over to his him just as Brittany almost knocked over the partition to get to him herself. Santana slapped him on the back.

"If Blaine's that short guy with the curls from Night of Neglect then, get it Kurt. He's hawt."

It felt amazing. Not only was he on their level now, he had a legitimate reason to be optimistic, a giddy spring in his step and a smile that refused to slide away.

He also had a definite excuse to go shopping and that was the icing on the very large cake.

* * *

><p>"Kurt?"<p>

Turning, Kurt smiled tiredly. He rubbed at his eyes. "Hey."

Finn bounced down on the bed as Kurt slid his bookmark into his silver diary. "I need your help."

"I'm warning you, I just spent the night with the girls and I did more sewing and pinning than the Emmanuels did on Lady Diana's dress so I might not be at my most coherent right now but still, what is it?"

Finn blinked, frowning. "No idea who those people are but cool. I just need help with Prom stuff."

"You can borrow my pink bow tie before you ask."

Finn beamed. "Awesome. Yeah, that's awesome but I need to buy Rachel something, right? Like a present or something. Don't dudes in those chick flicks get them a flower or whatever?"

Kurt sighed with a smile. Sometimes it was so strikingly obvious that he and Finn shared no blood link but that didn't stop Kurt from sometimes wanting to give Finn a cuddle. It was a feeling that didn't come along often but when it did, in those quiet moments when they just existed around each other and shared things, Finn was everything a big brother should be.

"Yes. You need to buy her a _corsage _or as you so demurely put it, a 'flower thing'. Do you want me to help you order it?"

"Um, yes. I know she's pretty chill about prom but she keeps talking about being a princess so I thought she'd want all the extra stuff, you know?"

"Finn, every girl wants that."

"Exactly, which is why I just want to do it right."

Smiling, Kurt patted his hand and slid to the end of the bed, opening his laptop. "Ok, just leave me to it for a minute and I'll show you some options."

Finn nodded happily and pulled out his iPhone and leaned back on the bed, obviously playing some inane game.

* * *

><p><strong>WarblerBlaine is online.<strong>

**Getoffofmyrunway is online.**

**WarblerBlaine:**Kurrrrrrrrtttttttt!

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Hey you

**WarblerBlaine:**Whatcha doing?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Helping Finn choose a corsage for Rachel. I'm thinking fresh flowers, pink or white to match her dress and a small sprig of green.

**WarblerBlaine:**Sounds beautiful. How is the outfit coming along?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Fine

**WarblerBlaine:**Just 'fine'?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Yes.

**WarblerBlaine:**Kurt?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **What?

**WarblerBlaine:**Why are you not typing a mile a minute and explaining how amazing it is?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Well I'm wearing a kilt. It's fantastic. I made it myself, jacket too!

**WarblerBlaine:**Wow

**Getoffofmyrunway: **That a good wow or a bad wow?

**WarblerBlaine:**Both...

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Oh ok

**WarblerBlaine:**Good because you'll look AMAZING and there are no words for the things the word 'kilt' does to me and bad well not bad but I just want to make sure that you'll be ok

**Getoffofmyrunway: **What do you mean?

**WarblerBlaine:**I mean that you're doing it for the right reasons that's all

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I want to wear it. I've worked hard on it. Those are my reasons

**WarblerBlaine:**Well in that case. It sounds perfect

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Why did you just bring that up?

**WarblerBlaine:**I'm sorry, Kurt. School dances and I are a sore subject so I just want to make sure we're going to be safe - you're going to be safe

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Blaine, we'll be fine

**WarblerBlaine:**I know

**Getoffofmyrunway: **And you're not weird about me wearing a kilt?

**WarblerBlaine:**No! No, nothing like that, I just don't want us to cause any trouble by just being ourselves. I just want us to be sensible too

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I don't care what they think. I'm going to my junior prom wearing the outfit I want to wear and I'm going to dance with my boyfriend

**WarblerBlaine:**Sounds amazing. I'm sorry about before

**Getoffofmyrunway: **It's ok. I get it. I know what you went though and it's understandable. It can be a re-do, a chance for you to do it right and not to have people spoil it so much for you. It can be a HAPPY memory.

**WarblerBlaine:**Yeah :) I guess. I just want to prove my dad wrong.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I'm marking your dance card all night long. Nobody is getting a look in.

**WarblerBlaine:**Don't I feel special?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **You should.

**WarblerBlaine:**Awww Kurt. Why am I not there?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **It's late, that's why.

**WarblerBlaine:**Still...

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Are you ok?

**WarblerBlaine:**Dad being awkward about Prom. Don't think he wants me to go

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I can understand why, in a way

**WarblerBlaine:**He would have me wrapped in cotton wool if he could

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I wish I was there

**WarblerBlaine:**Me too. So much. My mom was pretty great though. She told him that it was my choice. That I'm getting older and should be able to make my own decisions

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Good. I'm glad. It's your life and I know they need to take care of you but my dad knows that he can give me as much advice as he wants and I'll always listen but in the end I'm always going to make the final decision for myself

**WarblerBlaine:**That's what I told my Dad. I was proud of my mom in a way.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **That's amazing

**WarblerBlaine:**It is :)

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I really want to give you a hug right now

**WarblerBlaine:**Don't say that :( makes it worse that I can't be there

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Just think

**WarblerBlaine:**What?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Don't freak out...

**WarblerBlaine:**Try me :)

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I was going to say, just think when we've got a place of our own

**WarblerBlaine:**Wow

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Bad or good, this time?

**WarblerBlaine:**Very good. Amazing. Perfect actually.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **You'll let me decorate, right?

**WarblerBlaine:**Naturally :) :)

**Getoffofmyrunway: **And then whenever you need a cuddle, I'll be there.

**WarblerBlaine:**Vice versa.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **That sounds wonderful.

**WarblerBlaine:**It definitely does! My dreams will be all domestic and cute tonight!

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Weirdo

**WarblerBlaine:**I'm talking... you in an apron...

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Only an apron?

**WarblerBlaine:** Kurt!

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Well! You didn't specify! ;)

**WarblerBlaine:**Oh my god. I can't believe you just said that.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Bad image?

**WarblerBlaine:**Shhhhhhh. I'm trying to picture it

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Blaine! My brother is in the room with me. Stop trying to picture me naked in an apron. You are SO inappropriate over chat, soooooooo bad.

**WarblerBlaine:**Yep soooooo bad

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Oh shut up. Now you're flirting

**WarblerBlaine:**Pretty much :)

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I miss you already and it has only been a couple of days :(

**WarblerBlaine:**I'm saving all of my kisses up

**Getoffofmyrunway: **What a lovely thought

**WarblerBlaine:**Plus I can't wait to see you in that kilt

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Oh my god! I'm shopping for _corsages_. Stop being rude.

**WarblerBlaine:**I'm actually pouting at the screen because I'm missing your blushing.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Blushing makes me look like a twelve year old teenybopper in pigtails

**WarblerBlaine:**No. Blushing makes you real. It makes you cute and it means that things make you FEEL

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I'll take your word for it

**WarblerBlaine:**Ok I'll let you get back to shopping. How's Finn?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **I think he may have watched some of my movies for Prom inspiration. Never Been Kissed and She's All That were out of alphabetical order.

**WarblerBlaine:**I am laughing so hard

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Maybe we'll be taking part in a synchronised dance!

**WarblerBlaine:**Don't

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Or someone will come out as an undercover reporter. Maybe Britt. Maybe it has all been an elaborate ruse!

**WarblerBlaine:**Hahahaha

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Or maybe there'll be a meeting of the two classes and the rich kid shall turn up to prove his worth and leave the lonely quirky one to be... well, lonely and quirky

**WarblerBlaine:**Pretty in Pink?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Ooooooo you're good!

**WarblerBlaine:**That out of alphabetical order too?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **No. Worse. The DVD's missing.

**WarblerBlaine:**Oh no. What if he's fashioning his own bow tie and cummerbund out of something?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Blaine, Finn doesn't know a sewing machine from a microwave. No way.

**WarblerBlaine:**Hahahahaha still, the thought alone is hilarious

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Anyway, that movie's special. I may have bought it after one of your letters...

**WarblerBlaine:**Really? Awwww

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Your name looks much prettier with an 'i'.

**WarblerBlaine:**I'll be sure to tell my mom.

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Also, you're better looking than him

**WarblerBlaine:**Blane?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Yes. He needs a hair trim and he's a bit slimy. Plus, he has questionable morals

**WarblerBlaine:**A minute ago I was picturing you wearing only an apron...

**Getoffofmyrunway: **True! Oh god! Why am I still associating myself with you? What am I doing with my life?

**WarblerBlaine:**Shopping for corsages?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **You're cute

**WarblerBlaine:**I know :)

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Logging off now, big head. Speak to you tomorrow.

**WarblerBlaine:**Call you later?

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Ha! Smooth.

**WarblerBlaine:**I thought so :D :D

**Getoffofmyrunway: **Ok. I'll call when I'm in bed.

**WarblerBlaine:**Oh there go those questionable morals again!

**Getoffofmyrunway: **GOODBYE BLAINE! 3

* * *

><p><strong>Three Days Later<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine, are you busy this evening?<br>**  
><em>Hey you! Just leaving Warbler practice. My schedule's clear! I was going to ask if you wanted to grab food or see a movie or something? We still need to see that Ryan Gosling movie, purely for the political undertones of course ;) ;)<br>_  
><strong>Would you come here? Please?<br>**  
><em>Yes. No problem. Are you ok?<br>_  
><strong>I will be. Thank you for coming. Drive safe xx<br>**  
><em>Ok. I'll be there as soon as I can xxxxxxx<em>

* * *

><p>It had been an awful day.<p>

Not only had Jesse St James decided that LuPone and Sunset Boulevard were too 'feminine' for a male to sing, he'd also behaved like a A class asshole for the entire afternoon and all but written 'I heart Rachel' on his 'judges' note paper.

Clearly he was only person in McKinley High who hadn't witnessed Rachel and Finn making eyes at each other at any given opportunity.

The whole idea of auditioning for Nationals was beyond pointless, about as useless as velour in a rain storm, when the judges were so horrifically biased or were... Mr Schue. He was the champion of the trier, the supporter of the underdog and that was wonderful until he stopped judging on talent and started judging on effort and sob stories. He was about as helpful as the pea brains on American Idol or whatever reality TV show for the mentally ill was popular with the mainstream.

The worst part was Coach Sylvester.

The day his mother died was the worst day of his life so far. She was there one moment, so full of life and wonderful ideas and then all of a sudden she was gone. Forever.

The look in Coach Sylvester's eyes when she explained that her sister had passed was the very same look that Kurt had been unable to get out of his mind for years. His dad had come into his room and sat on the edge of the bed to deliver the worst news imaginable. The look was fear; it was panic, desperation, shock, sadness and utter devastation.

At school, she'd been a shell of a person and Kurt had looked at Finn once and understood exactly what they had to do.

Visiting the home that Jean Sylvester had lived in was hard. He'd spent most of the day choked, eyes full of hot tears bitten back for the sake of Sue and even Finn. Crying didn't help anyone other than the person who shed the tears. Her things were so personal, so unique to her life and spirit and Kurt knew he'd go home and drag out every last memory of his mother to make sure that he remember her correctly.

Seeing Sue push it all away, dismiss the things that people were supposed to cherish had been difficult. Kurt knew how much it had meant over the years to be able to remind himself of his mother, to use her things, to smell her perfume and to look at the objects that she considered special. Sue would no doubt need that one day and depriving her of it felt wrong, cruel even.

Mercedes had called, asking him for help with her only recently purchased prom dress but he'd put it off, promising her that he'd be there tomorrow, sewing kit in hand. The garage was always open late during the week so Kurt knew the house would be quiet except for Carole who would be sleeping off a long shift on the couch and Finn who seemed to have an entire year's worth of Math and History homework to catch up on.

Kurt sat on the edge of his bed and waited, hands in his lap clasped tight.

He wanted Blaine. Anything spoken about Elizabeth Hummel that wasn't from Burt's own lips seemed to catch him unawares and make him sad so Kurt never brought her up, just simply took advantage of the times Burt would. Kurt knew he couldn't bother his dad with it all and Carole and Finn had their own problems.

Regardless, Blaine was all Kurt found himself thinking of. Ordinarily he'd have pulled out his writing set and got to work on a letter as he cried and let his emotions pour onto the page but now he didn't have to wait for a response, Blaine could be so close and it was too tempting for words.

"Kurt, honey!" Carole's voice made him jump warm and urgent as it travelled up the stairs. "You have a visitor!"

It wasn't long before Blaine stood in the doorway. Kurt just looked. He didn't move and neither did Blaine for a moment before he seemed to breathe in and sit close-by on the bed.

"What happened?"

Kurt closed his eyes tight, hands clinging to the fur of his bed cover. It was difficult to form into clear and coherent words.

"Coach Sylvester's sister died."

Kurt didn't open his eyes but he _felt _Blaine's chest deflate and the mattress move a little as Blaine shuffled back onto it. "That's awful. I'm sorry. Was she ill?"

Kurt shook his head gently; it felt stiff as if the thoughts were clogging him up, his mind so tight like a pressure cooker. "She had Down's syndrome. I never met her but I always knew there was a reason why Coach Sylvester had such a soft spot for Becky Jackson. She's a really sweet girl but even Coach Sylvester doesn't keep people _that _close unless it's for a reason. Guess I know why now."

He opened his eyes to find Blaine, hands clasped in his lap and listening quietly.

"So her sister, was she close to her?"

Kurt nodded. "You should have seen her face. She – Her eyes – " It was too much to picture at once. Every memory of the week of hell he'd had to endure at such a young age came flooding back: relative patting his shoulder and claiming that his mom lived in 'here' as they pointed to their hearts, people he'd never seen before passing him cups of juice with smiles so forced...

"Kurt?"

He didn't even realise. Tears were falling, hot and heavy onto the collar of his shirt and down to the 'V' of his waistcoat where they stained, pale grey turning to black.

"I've never – I've never thought about her as much as I have today and I just –" He couldn't breathe, something vice-like clasping his lungs until he was forced to suck in a breath, leaning into his own hands that were suddenly there to catch him. "I miss her sometimes. So much."

Blaine couldn't move. He'd known heart ache in his life but he was fortunate in that he still had his family including every grandparent. Burt Hummel was a great guy and obviously an incredible father but Blaine knew Kurt and could see exactly why having lost a mother would sting so much _more _in a way. Losing a parent was a pain that nobody could imagine but for Kurt, he had sought out affection and some resemblance of support all of his life and his mother could have been that for him. His fondest memory had been of _her_, after all, and she seemed to have passed on so much of herself to him.

Watching Kurt cry wasn't easy. Blaine hadn't seen someone so vulnerable in all his life. Kurt was 'strength' personified. From his biting wit to his solid shoulders, he only allowed his eyes to give him away but now, sitting crumpled in two, Kurt looked so fragile.

"It made you remember your mom?"

Kurt nodded into his hand, sniffing loudly and dragging his fingers under his eyelashes. "Coach Sylvester looked like she was in pain. We went to her sister's home and helped her pack up her things and it was too personal, I don't know – " Turning to Blaine, Kurt could see the uncertainty in his eyes. "Finn came too and we tried to help but neither of us felt as if we could. She wouldn't let us. I don't do this... I don't –"

"Everyone reacts differently, don't they?" Blaine reached out, his hand wide against Kurt's leg. He took a breath, shuffling a little closer and hoping it helped in some insignificant way. He couldn't hug Kurt for some reason. It was as if Kurt was trying so hard to hold himself together and that this was much more important, the talking. "I know I don't understand, not really, but I'm here."

Kurt smiled a little. Blaine could see it through his fingers. "I know you are." As he spoke, Kurt leaned to his right, shoulder landing against Blaine's softly; he let it rest there. His fingers were wet, cheeks damp and the collar of his green shirt looked uncomfortably soggy. Blaine fished in his pocket for a second and drew out a packet of tissues – the packet he always carried with him as in inherited habit from his ever-prepared mother – and let it linger in front of Kurt's face for a second.

As Kurt slid one out, he turned to Blaine, eyes large and framed by tears. "Thank you," he said simply. He voice wasn't assertive and clear like Blaine had grown so used to; it was softer, choked around the edge of his words.

"I'm glad Finn was there," Blaine said eventually once Kurt had cleaned himself up. "I bet it helped. Didn't you say his Dad died when he was young?"

Kurt nodded, turning on the bed to face Blaine now. "When he was a baby. He was in the army."

"Wow," Blaine breathed. He was truly lucky. His family weren't perfect – far from it – and they weren't the conventional parents or the ones he'd have chosen but they were still there and, in their own way, they tried. "I doubt any of this was easy on both of you."

"We're ok," Kurt laughed out. "We're both tougher than we look. It just made me think, that's all."

It was true. Blaine had sensed that from the very first moment he wrote to Kurt, his unwavering mission to succeed and push past anyone who tried to hurt him with as much of his rightful dignity intact.

"You're one of the strongest people I know," Blaine sighed, smiling. He nudged Kurt's shoulder gently in hope that it'd draw out a smile too. It worked. Kurt glanced up, eyelashes clumped together with tears. He took a deep breath and let his head fall to Blaine's shoulder, resting warm and still.

He let out a small groan. "Ok, pity party's over. No more tears."

Blaine allowed his hands to soothe, his right palm lifting to press softly against Kurt's shoulder where it rubbed in circles gently. Like a cat, Kurt let out a faint sigh and curled his body into the touch. "You ok?"

"Yes. It's just it gets to me sometimes. I know it was a long time ago," he breathed out, pressing his forehead deeper into Blaine's neck, "when my mom died but it never stops hurting and when I saw how sad Coach Sylvester was and how scared she was, it brought back so many memories. I remember writing to you and telling you all about my mom and I'm so pleased I did."

"Me too." Blaine felt Kurt's lips quirk against his cardigan. "You want to talk about her?"

Kurt leaned back and found Blaine's eyes. It was odd how little he _did _talk about her, especially to his Dad, but recently she'd cropped up in conversations and the second he'd heard the sad news about Jean Sylvester, the same sharp desperation and aching sadness seeped in.

Usually it felt nice to mention her. It felt like she was still living on, still being brought up and celebrated, but other times it hurt too much because even the mention of her name reminded him that she _wouldn't _be back. She was gone and he would never be able to get to know her the way he'd always dreamed.

Looking at Blaine, Kurt nodded. Today was a day to celebrate her, remember her and share her because he knew that his Dad had been right – she would have _adored_ Blaine.

For the remainder of the afternoon, Kurt sat in the centre of his carpet and showed Blaine every trinket and memory he owned that had once belonged to Elizabeth Hummel: her emerald and gold brooch with the broken clasp that Kurt had never found the heart to fix, a pair of opal earrings that Burt had bought her on their honeymoon, a pile of her favorite books with some of the pages still turned down, his old birthday cards written in her loopy handwriting (_To our darling baby boy, Have the happiest of birthdays, Lots of Love Mom and Dad xxxxx_), a thick collection of photographs and a cassette full of her favourite music taped from local radio. Kurt watched as Blaine held each in turn, asking questions and smiling in all of the right places. When he came to the photographs though, his face changed.

"She was tall," he said after a brief silence.

Kurt chuckled softly, shuffling around to sit alongside Blaine with their knees touching. "She wore a lot of heels too. Apparently she had a crazy shoe collection. It spanned an entire wardrobe apparently."

Blaine couldn't resist a smile. "Sounds like someone else I know." Looking up, Kurt's eyes were full but sparkling.

"I clearly inherited her exceptional taste and flair for fashion. Certainly didn't get it off my dad."

"No," Blaine laughed, turning to the second photo. "You have her eyes and her bone structure too. Whereas your dad's face is rounder, hers is sharper and more graceful like yours."

Blaine kept sorting through them, laughing a little when he got to the photograph of her covered in white paint in oversized overalls as she stood in the center of what appeared to be a new house and lingering on the shot of her in hospital, face flushed and eyes shining as she held a baby in her arms. Kurt wasn't moving though; he sat quietly at Blaine's side.

After a moment, Blaine looked up, a little unnerved as to Kurt's silence and found him staring resolutely at his face with an expression nothing short of wonder. Blaine felt his spine tingle – nobody had ever looked at him like that before.

"You're so _nice,_" Kurt said eventually, face relaxing and lips shaking into a tiny smile. He closed his eyes and let his head fall onto Blaine's shoulder with a contented sigh. Without thinking, Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's hair and turned to the next photograph.

As they looked slowly through the rest of the contents of the box, Blaine remembered to swallow and breathe and definitely not to cry.

* * *

><p>The house was quieter than normal and that was saying something. Blaine bundled up his laundry and deposited it in the old wooden basket in the room just off the kitchen as Lillian appeared around the corner.<p>

She jumped a little, hand on heart. "Blaine! What are you doing in the dark?"

He laughed to himself. She was always so pristine but Lillian Anderson in night clothes was always Blaine's favourite version. She looked younger, softer, and kinder.

"Laundry," he shrugged, straightening the clothing cover he had thrown over his arm.

"And this?" She raised an eyebrows as she leaned against the counter in her dressing gown. "Is this the suit?"

"I didn't know which to go for," Blaine offered, suddenly nervous. They hadn't discussed it much. She'd been his saviour in a way, standing up for him when it was almost out of character for her to do so but she'd tried and that had meant more than Blaine could say.

"Let me see?" She unzipped the cover, hand gentle against Blaine's arm. As the suit slid out, ironed starch straight and jet black, she smiled wide and nodded. "Oh this is classic and almost looks Armani. You'll look very handsome, very smart."

"You think?" It had taken a lot of debating with himself until he'd finally decided upon two. One was quirkier, injected with much more personality and flair where the other was cleaner, simpler and definitely was not designed to turn heads except someone skilled in exquisite tailoring – like Kurt.

"It's very discreet," she cooed, hand smoothing down the fabric, "very understated and I'm sure you will be the best dressed there. This isn't the suit of a boy in high school, this is the suit of a young man."

She meant well. Her smile was so genuine, touch so meaningful, but she still just didn't get it. Life wasn't about being 'understated' and 'discreet', it wasn't about hiding in the background and letting other guys take the better roles, have the bigger adventures and live the greater lives. Life was about carving out your own path, making mistakes, finding your special niche and revelling in your own identity. It was about expressing yourself, smiling, sharing, connecting and finding the joy in life.

Blaine nodded regardless, knowing exactly how sincere his own mother was about the suit being perfect for the night in question. In a way she was right. He wouldn't have found the courage to wear anything quite as outlandish as Kurt because the fear was still there, prickling under the surface of his skin and the night would be tainted with stress and continual worry from the beginning if he decided to allow the recklessness in.

Standing out wasn't the aim of the evening as much as he so desperately wanted it to be. Just the same way as he felt suffocated sometimes with the home they lived in - the neatness and careful pristine way it just didn't have any real _feeling _in it, no obvious heart – he suppressed the need to rebel and express himself for this single free standing evening. Kurt didn't deserve the added trouble. He'd be the perfect date; he'd be the person he _should _be, the boy he was inside but without showing it outwardly. Kurt would understand, he'd have enough flare for both of them and maybe if it went ok and nothing bad came their way, Blaine could learn to relax next time.

"Let me know if you need to borrow any cufflinks for tomorrow, sweetheart," Lillian offered gently as she stood in the doorway, framed by the yellow glow of the hall light, "I'm sure your father would let you borrow some of his."

She smiled and drifted up the stairs, silk billowing behind her.

Blaine stood still for a moment and considered threading his arm through Kurt's for pre-Prom photographs, holding his hand in the car, reaching to touch Kurt's cheek as they (hopefully) kissed goodnight... with his cuffs being held with his father's property.

Something twisted but a little bit smug said that '_yes_', Blaine would wear them and he'd enjoy every single second.

* * *

><p>Thank you for all of your lovely commentsmessages/recs. We only have 2 more parts to go!

The next part is... well, I think you'll like it! : )


	21. Prom Night

**Title: **Wild Horses - Epilogue Part 1C  
><strong><span>Word Count<span>: **~14,000 (yes...)  
><strong><span>Warnings:<span>** AU  
><strong><span>Rating:<span>** PG-13 for the first half - NC-17 for the rest.  
><strong><span>Summary:<span>** A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

**Author's Notes**  
>I'll save my rambling till after the chapter as it's infinitely long and you can blame my moving house and second bout of strep throat in a year... thank you to EVERYONE who has stuck with this story. It means the world to write it and I wish I could cuddle you all.<br>Big thank you to the lovely **ccmskatechick**, as always, for her fabulous help and to **canuckpagali**for the most WONDERFUL help on this chapter I girl could wish for. Seriously she is responsible for this making sense, for it not lasting another 2,000 words or something and just GOODNESS she was utterly fabulous :)

**_Only one part to go and it'll be posted in the next few days..._**

* * *

><p>It was one of those nights that people dreamed of.<p>

Finally, Kurt thought as he busied himself in the kitchen, he could enjoy one of those teenage rites of passage like everyone else. He had a rather handsome date, a kick ass outfit that Marc Jacobs himself would have given a gold star and he had friends who were along for the ride.

Everything was under control. Mercedes and Rachel were on their way and there was the mother of all party spreads currently waiting on a covered table in his room, accompanied by a bottle of sparkling cider bought by Carole in her girlish excitement about the entire event.

It was going to be an amazing night.

**~o~o~oOo~o~o~**

Blaine could feel his heart beating through the thickness of his lapels, fingers clutching at the wheel. It was going to be fine.

He just hadto see Kurt and it would be ok. Just looking into his eyes, seeing the solidarity there, the fierce reassurance – everything would be fine.

As the cars in front all slowed and stopped, Blaine let his mind travel to the place he hadn't dared to since his parents had informed him of that last minute business trip to Chicago in order to firm up some potential partnership. The wives were to be dragged along in order to attend a fancy dinner wearing too much cologne and perfume and nowhere near enough dignity.

Since their trust in him or blind ignorance to the fact he had a boyfriend now was so explicit, the house was his. There were plans in place because it was _Prom _and the memories were still there, fresh and burning on recollection. He'd seen them before they'd left and, of course, they'd wished him a great time. A thick velvet box containing special sparkly cufflinks had been pressed into his palm, warm and insistent but it had, all at once, felt like a consolation prize – 'sorry we won't be here for you, Blaine - but here! - wear these and it'll feel like we're with you'. Out of spite, he'd wear them. They meant well sometimes but at other times their 'well meaning' gestures felt forced- cheap and cold. His suit had been commented on, his mom declaring it, once again, to be that of a very fine young man but it wasn't quite the misty eyed digital camera obsessed parental reaction he'd foolishly hoped for. They'd insisted that his cell stay on and his Grandmother call in a few times during the night to make sure he was safe, just in case.

All he wanted was _normal. _Settling for lame music and tissue paper and awkward dancing was about as wonderful as he could imagine, just as long as A&E and gut wrenching misery didn't play a part in the evening at all.

The traffic didn't seem to be moving so he pulled out his cell and began typing.

_My parents are out of town. B xxxxxxx_

**That sucks. I thought they'd want to be around xxx**

Blaine laughed to himself. Kurt _would _think practically instead of considering the implications of an empty house on prom night. His parents were clearly in deep denial because even _they _hadn't considered that he'd sneak Kurt back for a sordid night of something their nightmares were made of.

He wouldn't – of course. It wasn't _them_. It could be, though – that was the point.

_It's ok. I'm used to a quiet house but you could always stay with me if you wanted? B xxx_

Propositioning one's boyfriend wasn't easy. The last thing Blaine wanted to do was sound like the world's worst sleazebag but they'd had the house to themselves before and it had been nothing short of life changing and magical so there was no harm in hoping for a repeat performance. Plus, sleeping alone was so much more disappointing now that he'd experienced Kurt cuddled close to him.

To have Kurt alone again with a blissful expanse of time stretching ahead of them was too perfect to build hopes upon. The excitement was too much. They were so comfortable now and it felt only a matter of time before one of them decided to bring up the idea of going a little further. Kurt kept insisting on looking so gorgeous and it really _was not _helping; Blaine knew he was already there. Kurt's brand new pair of dark wash jeans had a provided a week's worth of fantasy material so getting to _touch _and _remove... _ although the prospect made his head spin it was something he was extremely ready for.

**Oh. Tonight? K xx**

_Yes. Only if you'd like to xxx_

**It's prom night.**

_I should hope so. I'm in an expensive suit in my car on my way to be your Prom date. ;) xxx_

**I think my dad would handcuff me to my bed post. **

_Not if he thought you were staying with Mercedes or Rachel. Isn't Finn staying with Puck? B xxxx_

**Yes. Puck's house aka Rachel Berry's 'explosion in a paint factory' bedroom.**

_Exactly._

**Oh. I guess I could. There's no way my dad's not going to be suspicious. **

_I don't want you to get in trouble or make you feel awkward, I just really want you to come! I thought I'd ask regardless xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**I just told him. I'm in! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_REALLY?_

**Yes, Blaine. Happy capitals? **

_Kurt. I get to spend an evening with you THEN you're coming home with me. Of course I'm happy! PS: I can supply a change of clothing, if you need some._

**I'll pack an overnight bag and we can slip it into your car. **

_This is quite the undercover operation ;) xxxxxx_

**Feel special, Blaine Anderson xxx**

_Oh I do. I do. xxxxxxxxxxx PS: Everyday actually._

**I can't wait to see you. Mercedes has gone back home already and Rachel's in Finn's room so I have peace at last. My ears are ringing from all the high pitch squealing. They're worse than hyenas.**

_Don't lie. You contributed to it._

**Shut up! I'm excited. It's PROM!**

_You're so cute! X_

**No. I'm suave, elegant and debonair. Get it right, Blaine.**

_You're also painfully cute and so amazing and I get to be your Prom date. Luckiest guy ever xxxxxx_

**Well, YOU said it ;)**

_Oh my god, stop making me fall for you more. You're so unfair. _

**Blaine. **

_Sorry but I can't hold it in tonight. I want permission to be unbearably cheesy tonight without you pulling a face and rolling your eyes._

**I don't ever want you to. You've just never said anything like that before. You also have permission **

_Doesn't mean I haven't been thinking it 24/7._

**Blaine Anderson, I insist that you come up to my bedroom immediately when you get here.**

_That's an offer I definitely cannot refuse._

**Not an offer. More like a command.**

_Bossy ;) xxxx_

**I miss you. So much, Blaine. You look devastating in a well cut blazer. I feel like Cinderella. It's Prom Night. You just said something so romantic I might cry and I get to spend the whole night with you. As if I can wait for you to get here. Hurry up xxxx**

_Driving faster xxxxxxxxx_

**No! Drive safely and get here in one piece to kiss me and tell me how handsome I look xxxx**

_Deal._

Blaine pocketed his phone with warm cheeks and a contented sigh. Nothing else seemed to matter. He took a breath as he shifted gears and tried to be cool but the dopey smile on his face clearly wasn't going to budge all night.

**~o~o~oOo~o~o~**

Kurt could feel the excitement buzzing under his skin as he hopped to the window every couple of minutes, eyes searching for any sign of a headlight. The fact that Blaine was coming dressed in his finery and with the sole intention of being the world's most staggeringly handsome Prom date was enough to give up dreaming forever but they were sleeping at Blaine's again.

It meant an empty house.

Nobody around.

A whole night without interruptions.

The prospect made him squirm, chest clenching, mind racing and heart fluttering. Blaine could never be the guy to push but it was clear they'd both become closer and much more comfortable with one another, the most important development being Kurt himself. It had always been a horrifying concept: sex. Nothing felt more nightmarish than showing every tiny insecurity to another person in the blind and frantic hope that they'd find them all - and it had to be all of them, in a way – enticing or at the very least endearing.

He'd never had a warped view of himself. There were things he liked - eyes, hair, height and calves - and there was a long, long list of things he definitely did not - thighs, hips, chest, arms, waist, that slash mark scar on the side of neck from an uncharacteristic bout of boyish silliness aged eight and the funny birth mark that stretched up his side and peeked from under his arm. He couldn't help those feelings, the ones that injected a niggling fear into his veins every time he considered being naked or on show.

Blaine was undoubtedly sweet. He was so genuinely honest and strong but his insecurities weren't as prevalent as Kurt's, they were masked by his goofy smile or the outward shiny happy way he viewed the world. Underneath, he was a little more complex and onion-like, difficult to work out sometimes and every now and then his eyes would cloud over with a metaphorical grey cloud. He was straight-up and as open as possible - even more so now and when they were together - but Kurt could tell that Blaine Anderson was an expert at the 'bury and forget' routine. If it hurt, if it caused pain then he dismissed it and focused on the good.

In a way it was admirable but unhealthy.

Still, they shared. It was their thing. Blaine, of late, was so very soft and responsive and, for Kurt, that was a shock to the system. Guys had never been like that before; they'd always been boisterous and heavy handed, frighteningly simple and self centred, lacking in flair and they were so rowdy sometimes, believing that it was the accepted 'way to be'. Blaine touched so gently. He could be firm too but it was as if he was holding tight, clinging and throwing every emotion into his actions because having a heart as enormous and busy as Blaine's was clearly a little overwhelming.

They'd been kissing a little on Kurt's bed and the boundary between chaste and 'this is going to go further' had been crossed; Kurt had began to snap open his eyes in panic before taking a breath and focusing on the tenderness in Blaine's touch. There wasn't anything to be so scared of and it was a process.

They'd keep each other safe and their mutual considerate nature would inevitably come into play, Kurt's own feistiness and fused emotion and Blaine's need to please and confidence providing the perfect combination.

It had been a bit of a struggle to sleep when these thoughts were becoming a regular visitor at night. He'd never been one to indulge in that kind of thing that frequently, except for sweeping romantic ideals featuring gently uncurled clothes and strong eye contact, his 'partner' so warm and smothering in the best way. Nothing had ever been frantic or dirty. It had all changed and _dirty _was normality now, the pull of fingers, the drag of hands and smooth slide of skin together as limbs tangled, breaths mingled and each grip grew that much more desperate and hard.

Instead of imagining, Kurt knew that he _wanted _now. It was a train crash of a realisation and such a blow to his long standing opinions on sex and the world of it. It had all seemed so enormous and impersonal, not to mention messy and terrifying but the thought of being scared of Blaine or finding him anything but the world's biggest turn on was just criminal.

If it was going to happen with anyone then it would happen with Blaine. Kurt wanted it to happen with him but the fear was still there, prickling at his skin at the overwhelming and lightheaded impulsiveness he'd allowed himself to indulge in. He'd never been one to relax enough to allow himself to _want _so much but now he had, in moments when his heart had owned his brain. He'd come to slowly get used to all that sex and intimacy embodied.

The thought of touching the wrong way or saying the wrong thing was mortifying but Blaine wasn't perfect either and he'd no doubt flail too, apologising way too much and jumping head first with too much enthusiasm. Blaine's eyes would flash with shock and all of his headstrong confidence would dissolve away to leave him bare. _That _was the Blaine that Kurt knew he was so in love with. He was true and the best kind of honest even if they weren't perfect.

Blaine Anderson tried and Kurt was still getting used to having someone like that to call his own.

As headlights cast golden orbs against the house opposite, Kurt jumped, stomach lurching.

"Carole! Blaine's here. Send him up would you?"

Carole peeked around the door frame. "Of course, sweetie. Finn's still getting ready and Rachel's in there with him so you two come down once you're ready and we'll have photos together. Your Dad wants to use his new digital camera."

Kurt felt his stomach tighten blissfully. He was getting the Prom night he'd always dreamed of.

"Of course. Just so long as Dad remembers to put the flash on this time and to look at the screen because I won't be responsible for my actions if my prom photographs feature me headless!"

Carole laughed, rolling her eyes. "I'll be sure to give him a little lesson. Now, go. I'll send Blaine up."

She shooed him and with a quick and excited glance at Blaine's car pulling into the driveway beside Rachel's, he skipped upstairs to wait.

It was ridiculous, really. Kurt kept his ear to the door, hearing Blaine's ever polite greeting and the click of the door as Carole no doubt closed it behind him.

"Kurt!" she called, right on cue and without any hint of the whole thing being rehearsed. "Blaine's here."

"Go on up. His room is girl free now so you should be able to breathe. It has been a bit of a mad house today."

"I bet it has. Thank you, Carole."

Kurt could feel his heart beating hard, palms beginning to sweat. It wasn't every day that a handsome boy made his way to take you to Prom.

"Kurt?"

He jumped, Blaine voice loud on the other side of the door. Busying himself at his vanity, Kurt took a breath and smoothed down his jacket. It was all about reminding himself that is was Blaine and he didn't have to be nervous at all.

"Come in."

The door edged open, Blaine's smile lighting up as he peeked through the gap. "Are you decent or should I come back later?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. The second Blaine's looked at him, it was a moment that Kurt knew he'd experience over and over for the entirety of their relationship. It was that small but constant reminder that their relationship and connection was something special because all it took was a look.

"Get in here." It was strange to hear such urgency in his own voice but Blaine looked ever so dashing, his hair curling a little over his starched collar, jacket skimming his waist and eyes twinkling no doubt with the remnants of their text conversation.

"I believe I'm owed a kiss or did you forget that particular deal?"

Kurt shook his head, smiling. "Come over here then," he half sang, shoulders swaying.

"Wow," Blaine teased, smirking, "someone really is bossy tonight. Should I just get used to it?"

As Blaine stepped closer, Kurt felt the customary shiver travel down his spine and out to his fingertips. He reached out, hands finding Blaine's wrist and pulling him a little. "Always."

Closing his eyes, Kurt felt Blaine's lips near, stopping just short of his face. "Just so you know, you look insanely hot."

With a gasp, Kurt closed the distance between them and felt his shoulders curl into the kiss, so desperate to be closer in an instant. Blaine's hands were soft on his waist, gentle in their hold but dipping lower with each breath. Kurt could feel himself spin. His breathing grew jittery as Blaine's fingertips traced patterns against the thick wool of his jacket.

Blaine smelled like a distant memory of aftershave and soap teamed with the unmistakeable scent of new fabric. "Blaine," Kurt breathed out against their lips, hands rising quickly to rest between them, "we need to have photos. No way is my Dad going to buy the excuse that my hair is meant to be out of place or that it's fashionable to wear a crinkled shirt."

Blaine's laugh vibrated between them, his hands sliding free as he stepped back. His face was flushed and eyes only a little bashful. They were getting so much better at everything.

They were doing it together.

"So," Blaine breathed deliberately, straightening himself out, "this is the kilt?"

With an excitable jolt, Kurt fanned out the material and spun on the spot. "You like?"

"I like," Blaine echoed, "and I was an ass for thinking otherwise." He offered a trademark dopey grin and held his arm out for the taking just as the noise of Finn and Rachel in the hall filtered through the gap in the door. "And I suppose we should go down and make our entrance?"

This was it. Kurt blinked extra fast, heart swooping in his chest because he was finally able to bask in the normality of being a giddy teenager. "Oh, you need something. Don't move." Blaine watched as Kurt almost dove into his alcove, hand momentarily poised in realisation. He emerged a moment later holding a clear box which he presented dramatically, eyes tinged with coy merriment. "This is for you."

Taking the box, Blaine sat gently on the edge of the bed. Kurt followed, hips bumping gently together. Unpicking the tape from the edge and pulling back the cover, Blaine sighed, smiling wide. "You made these?"

Kurt glanced sideways to catch Blaine's eye. He nodded, turning to tug the box from Blaine's grip. "Here. I'm the one with the design flair." He winked before tucking the stem of the boutonnière into Blaine's button hole with a swift flick of his wrist. "I got pink, I hope you don't mind."

Laughing, Blaine shook his head. "You're not a lily white kind of guy when it comes to prom, are you?" They were so close that Blaine could see the tiny flecks of varying shades of blue in Kurt's eyes.

"No," Kurt agreed in a second, hurrying to pin his own flower in place. "Prom is no place to shirk on creativity, Blaine. I'm going all out or not at all. The girls get to wear the hoop skirts and taffeta so I get to wear what the heck I want."

Kurt never failed to impress. Blaine watched him preen, his fingers so deftly in tune with every single stroke, so used to making the same hair adjustments. He was a practiced perfectionist and yet still managed to look as if it was effortless to look so well presented and, well, gorgeous. His skin glowed in the light from his dresser and, beyond all expectation, he'd managed to create an outfit so _Kurt _with his own fair hands that Blaine couldn't help but tuck all of his worries to one side. Kurt _could_ and he'd suffered just as badly.

It was _one night._

"Ready?" Kurt turned, head tilted. His eyes fizzed with excitement.

"As I'll ever be," Blaine smiled back, "Let's go."

Bouncing on his heels, Kurt reached for Blaine's arm and they began their descent downstairs. By the time they reached the bottom, Rachel and Finn had begun their final preening session, Rachel straightening Finn's bow tie and smoothing his cummerbund.

"You look very handsome," she cooed happily, her face dotted with blush.

Kurt rolled his eyes with a fond smile. "Beautiful corsage, Rachel," he offered, eyes sparkling, "You have style after all, Finn. Who'd have thought?"

He squeezed Blaine's arm against his own and giggled quietly as Finn flashed a strained and desperate smile. "Yeah, thanks bro."

"Oh, Kurt! It's so wonderful, isn't it? It's the _perfect _colour from the _perfect _guy. And may I say you both look very dashing." As quick as a flash, her eyes moved in on Finn again with her trademark intensity but Finn didn't seem to flinch; instead, he mooned back with a dopey smile and pulled her to him.

"You made them happy," Blaine whispered close to Kurt's ear, sending shudders over his skin. Kurt hummed to himself, glancing up cheekily.

"They made themselves that way. I just provided the creative catalyst, that's all. It is beautiful though."

"So are you."

Kurt stopped breathing. Or at least it felt like it. He looked into Blaine's eyes – serious and deep.

"You meant it, didn't you?"

The picture of innocence, Blaine smiled. "Meant what? That you're beautiful?"

"No," Kurt laughed, tucking his head against Blaine's shoulder for a second. He looked up under his eyelashes. "That you're going to be extra cheesy tonight?"

"Oh yeah," Blaine sighed, nodding enthusiastically. Kurt was sure his legs were made entirely of jelly. "_That_, I meant."

"Ok, kids!" Burt called, entering the room from the kitchen with Carole in pursuit. She was glowing. It was as if she'd waited just as long as they had for the chance to share such a pursed her lips, head tilting to take in Finn in his suit with Rachel hooked delicately into his arm, her expression glittering with affection. Kurt couldn't help but smile, shivering a little at the blooming happiness in his stomach. It wasn't until Carole's eyes fell on Blaine that he swallowed down tears. She grinned wide, gaze lingering on their linked arms and looked into straight at Kurt, grinning so hard that her eyes crinkled.

"Well, don't you all look handsome and _pretty_," she glanced to Rachel appreciatively, who squirmed under the attention but clearly relished it with a poof of her dress.

"Thank you, Carole."

Burt turned to them, finally having programmed the camera to the right setting. He nodded to Blaine but then looked straight at Kurt and smiled with such sincerity that Kurt felt so close to tears. It was going to be ludicrous if he wept openly in front of everyone. Having waited for an evening so special, it all felt as if it were straight from one of the movies Finn had been stealing so surreptitiously.

"Looking good, kid," Burt offered before gesturing for them all to gather together. "Finn, you're gonna have to duck down, this camera's not made for your height."

Rachel swirled her eyes, giggling. "Bend, Finn." She instructed him, tugging him down. Kurt caught Blaine smiling at them, clearly amused at their antics but it was obvious that Finn would have walked hot coals or stood naked in front of the camera for Rachel Berry.

Kurt let himself rest against Blaine's side, their similarity in height providing the perfect opportunity for linking arms. Just before the camera clicked, Kurt felt his heart swell as Blaine's arms looped tighter, his fingers playing idly against the skin at his wrist. He most likely didn't even realise he was doing it but as Kurt glanced to the side between snaps, there was a serene smile on his face that only meant one thing – he was happy.

Trying to regulate his breathing, Kurt swallowed hard and turned to Blaine as Carole assisted with the camera flash. Rachel was fussing with Finn's boutonnière once again, clucking like a hen as she rambled on an on, Finn's face full of overzealous rapture as if she was retelling an epic.

"I want to read our letters tonight. Together," Kurt said simply, allowing himself to look directly into Blaine's eyes as he tilted his head close. Blaine grinned softly.

"Really?"

"I put mine in my bag to hide in your car," Kurt whispered against the shell of Blaine's ear.

"Ok."

It was difficult to put the feelings into words but Blaine took a deep breath, smiling easily as the second round of photographs commenced. Kurt was something else. He kept his sentimentality so under wraps sometimes that when it rushed to the surface, it was suffocating and sweet. He truly cared, with all of his heart. He didn't just _like_; he _loved_. It was the one thing that Blaine knew he'd never ever take for granted. Nobody had so openly and freely shrouded him in so much compassion before and he knew, deep down, that it would take a lifetime of searching to find someone who would so seriously care as Kurt did.

It made the fear of losing it much more acute but the wonder of having it that much more magical.

A horn beeped outside and lights flashed through the blinds. Carole clasped her hands together, linking Burt in an instant. "Well, I'm going to teach Ansel Adams here how to work the computer and get some of these printed up. Blaine, I'll print a couple for your parents, too."

Rachel wooped, swinging her bejewelled bag over her arm. "The car's here!" Grabbing Finn's hand, she made for the door. "Thank you so much, Burt. Thank you, Carole!"

They were out of the door quick as a flash leaving Carole and her motherly forlorn sigh behind. She made her way to the door and watched them pile into the limo.

"Have a great time."

Kurt slid his arm free from Blaine's, turning to smile quickly before enveloping his father in a well earned hug. Kurt appreciated every effort his dad was making on a day to day basis but especially how quickly Blaine had been welcomed.

"Thanks, Dad," he said leaning back.

"Be careful," Burt frowned, coughing himself into his fatherly role before glancing at Blaine, "and watch out for each other, ok?"

"We will," Blaine said earnestly. "And thank you for having me over."

"No worries, kid. Now go on, or else Finn and Rachel'll drive off without you. That girl even scares me and that's sayin' something."

"Burt," Carole laughed, slapping his arm. "You boys look very smart. Go have fun! Your dad and I can't wait to hear all the stories when you get back from Mercedes' tomorrow."

Kurt didn't mistake it. She winked, pressing her free hand to Burt's arm reassuringly. Blaine's expression was mesmerised as Kurt tugged him towards the door, the fluttering in his stomach so intense that no amount of deep breaths could quell it. Grabbing Blaine's hand, Kurt turned to wave and closed the door behind them.

"She knows," Blaine hissed, arms wrapping around Kurt's waist and pressing lips to the spot where collar met skin. He was laughing, breath hot against Kurt's neck.

"Oh my god, I don't know whether to kiss her feet or be appalled at her blatant lack of parental concern."

"When we get back later to pick up the car, remind me to hug her or at least buy her some chocolates or something," Blaine laughed as they reached the door of the car. Rachel and Finn were singing along with the loud music as the door opened but Blaine stood to one side, chivalrous as ever. He gestured for Kurt to slide in.

"After you."

Frowning playfully, Kurt tugged at Blaine's bow tie. "So long as I can be the one to help you _out _of the car when we get there."

Blaine sighed with a breathless chuckle, skin flooding warm under Kurt's attention. He closed his eyes at the tickling of Kurt's fingers against his chest. "I was hoping you'd say that."

As he opened his eyes, Kurt was staring seriously. He rubbed his lips together thoughtfully and sighed, shoulders relaxing noticeably. "Thank you," was all he said, simple and to the point.

It was all encompassing; the gratitude, the awe, the appreciation and happiness all rolled into one. Blaine felt it every second they were together but Kurt's expression was full of it. Blaine leaned in, kissing his cheek softly and hoped to god it went some way to explaining how _much _he felt it too.

"No. Thank _you." _

Of course Rachel Berry had hired the world's most expensive limo with speakers to boot. As Cyndi Lauper's 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' came to an end, Kurt clambered into the car and laughed as Blaine sang his way in after him to the opening of Bad Romance with crazy faces to boot.

It was Prom and Kurt didn't care how ridiculous everything was – he'd embrace every single moment of it.

**~o~o~oOo~o~o~**

As the limo pulled up, Kurt watched as Finn was pulled frantically along the path to the entrance doors as Rachel chattered excitedly. "There are gold stars _everywhere. _Someone must have known, Finn. They must have _known"._

"She's a handful," Blaine sighed, as Kurt slid out of the car, smirking as he offered his hand.

Bowing his head, Blaine wrapped his fingers tight. Kurt watched the moment register on Blaine's face, his cheeks blushing and eyes crinkling from his trademark grin. "She's a _lot_ of things but I shall not talk about Rachel Berry this evening. It's a rule."

"Oh?" Blaine stood, closing the door behind him and sliding his arm into Kurt's. It was as if he didn't want to be too far away. Kurt could sense it in the way Blaine seemed to curl in on himself as they made their way up the sidewalk. It made sense really; he hadn't had public school unleashed on him for years, especially not in a circumstance so blatant. They were so clearly each other's date and Kurt couldn't help but hold a little tighter to the shiny fabric of Blaine's jet black suit as if to anchor both of them.

"These are nice," Kurt said simply, turning Blaine's wrist over to allow his fingers to play with the cufflinks there.

"Dad's," was all Blaine said. His eyes seemed clouded but Kurt smiled as they reached the doors and Blaine, once again, held the door for him. He was close to breaking into laughter but Kurt spoke first, stopping him.

"Jeez. This stuff is so much easier when you're a girl and boy. Are we going to have to take turns forever?"

"It's in my nature and I like the way you smile at me when I do it so, shoot me!" Blaine's eyes lit up as he spoke. He wrinkled his nose playfully as Kurt laughed, his face betraying any attempt to seem exasperated. He couldn't – not when Blaine was so desperately sweet.

"Baby doll, you look amazing."

Mercedes rounded the corner, the pink glare from her dress preceding her as she twirled for Kurt's approval.

"I did good," he grinned wickedly, nudging Blaine. "Doesn't she look breath taking?"

Mercedes' eyes zeroed in. "Oh my god, Kurt. Way to introduce us properly!"

"Oh!" Kurt gasped, clinging to Blaine's arm and pulling him a little. "Mercedes, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is Mercedes. I completely forgot that you hadn't met, maybe because I talk about you both so much or something."

It could hardly be dismissed as a throwaway comment, especially as Blaine seemed to melt. His lips quirked ever so slightly and his eyes failed to find Mercedes at all.

"Well," she teased, "it's great to meet you, Blaine. Be good to my boy here, he deserves a perfect night."

As if to snap Blaine out of his trance, she pouted, waiting for an answer. He flushed a little, watching as she rolled his eyes in amusement. "Sorry, Mercedes. It's great to meet you too. I really do feel like I know you. Kurt wrote about you so much so it's great to finally put a face to a name."

"Same," she offered, laying her manicured hand on Kurt's forearm. Blaine watched as Kurt beamed under the attention but didn't let go of Blaine's arm once. They weren't inside the hall yet and it was inevitable that they'd have to part and simply walk beside one another when they were but the fact that they stayed as close as possible for as long as they could seemed to speak volumes.

"Come on then," Kurt said, suddenly animated and bounding on his feet, "let's see how hideous the gym looks."

**~o~o~oOo~o~o~**

It was like existing in one of Rachel Berry's dreams whilst on a serious acid trip.

There were stars _everywhere. _Either Rachel had somehow pushed her way onto the Prom committee (much the same way she had a membership to both the Muslim and Black student's associations) or Jacob Ben Isreal was still trying to impress her to get in her pants and had paid them in her honour. Someone had horrible taste though – that much was obvious.

"My eyes are physically itching," Kurt groaned, glancing sideways at Blaine who was a little quiet.

"Mmm hmmm. We can go outside if you want?"

Blaine's eyes were harder, shrouded in an impenetrable mist that made him look so _sad, _so _lost. _"Blaine?"

Kurt watched him blink into the moment. He looked nervous in himself, as if he wasn't sure of who to be.

"Yeah?"

Kurt took a breath, unsure. "How about we get some punch? It's over there in the corner."

His shoulders seemed to relax a little, the music changing and a loud 'woo' erupting as Puck mounted the stage and began to dance alongside Sam. Kurt recognised the song as some inane internet craze but his focus was on Blaine and the reason for the sudden change in personality.

"That sounds good."

As they found the bowl, Kurt prised a couple of cups free and filled them with ease, the swirl of liquid providing an odd sense of comfort. He could take care of Blaine the same way that Blaine had seemed to all of the months that he'd felt so alone, so unconsidered.

"Here," Kurt offered, watching as Blaine took the cup between both hands and sipped gently. His lips were wet but he didn't lick them dry, he just stared, eyes gazing one-by-one at the couples dancing. "There really is diversity at McKinley High tonight."

Blaine tried a smile but it failed. "You think people realise how much hurt they inflict? Like, how much pain they actually cause?"

Kurt could barely move. Blaine didn't often talk with so much spite. His voice wavered, the exhaustion in it so evident – a world away from the Blaine who'd stepped out of the limo and gratefully taken his hand.

"No, I don't."

"Me either. I bet the guys who did what they did to Daniel and I all those years back are living it up right now without a care in world while I feel physically incapable of asking my boyfriend to dance at his school Prom. I mean, where is the justice in that?"

It was a rhetorical question but Kurt felt as if he had to answer, to find a way to say something to take away the pain but it was no use. He didn't have _any _of the answers.

"While they may be care free and without a worry now, Blaine, I guarantee that by the time you're a beloved school teacher or performer or whatever you're destined to excel at and I'm taking the world by storm, they'll be weeping into their TV dinners as their wife nags them into an early grave. They'll go to the bed at the sound of racoons clawing at their second rate station wagon and wake up to some dead end job down at the local rendering plant."

Blaine's laugh was wry and almost gravelly but it was genuine and Kurt couldn't help but feel pleased.

"You have such a way with words." Blaine glanced to the side, the shine of moisture at the corner of his eyes.

"Come on," Kurt urged, smoothing down his jacket, "I can't listen to Puck murder another classic party anthem."

As they entered the empty hallway, Kurt turned. "I want you to tell me if you feel uncomfortable."

Blaine nodded, limbs stiff and seemingly unresponsive. It hurt to see how closed off he seemed, how dark his eyes were as they missed so much of their usual light. Kurt edged forward and slid his fingers into Blaine's palm where they fit nicely. The sound of Rachel Berry's ingenious rendition of Jar of Hearts – _such_ a pleasant song for a supposed night of joy – spilled out into the corridor and as Kurt stepped gingerly into Blaine's personal space, there was no hesitation as he curled into a dance position and began to sway gently.

The only guy he'd ever danced with was Finn and his oversized and uncoordinated llama limbs had stayed rigid throughout the evening. As sweet as it had been, it hadn't prepared him for the feelings that soared through his veins at Blaine's fingers pressing one by one into his hip and the soft, warm ghost of Blaine's breath against his neck.

"If someone come-"

"Then I'll use my razor sharp wit to confuse their less than average brain capacities."

Blaine laughed, burying his head and circling his arms further around Kurt's waist. "You know, I think you have a talent."

"What for? I'll add it to my list when I get home."

Chuckling lightly, Blaine shook his head. His hair tickled at Kurt's jaw causing him to smile and duck into Blaine's shoulder. "You know how to snap me out of my _moments." _

Kurt clung harder. "Look, I know you went through hell and I know how scary it must have been to pick yourself up but this is your chance to show them. This is your chance to fight back, just like you told me to. To prove that they can't break you. You're so much stronger and they can't hurt you anymore. They can't touch us or what we have and I won't let them."

Sighing his worries out with such a force that Kurt's heart ached, Blaine snuggled closer with a tiny noise of contentment. "Best day of my life," he murmured.

"What was?"

"The day I wrote to you."

**~o~o~oOo~o~o~**

"It's Abba, Blaine. _Abba._"

"And? Is that supposed to mean something?" Blaine whined, pulling back against Kurt's hand attempting to drag him off his chair and into the dancing crowd. The rest of the New Directions were already bouncing around. Brittany was taking trips in Artie's wheelchair, Santana looking on in mild hatred from the stage. Finn was twirling an iridescent Rachel as she giggled, throwing herself at him and tottering on her heels. Mike had his arms around Tina, mouthing the lyrics to her and bopping in perfect rhythm to the beat.

"_Yes, _Blaine. Abba may be cheesy and stereotypical but they're _classic _and not to mention _gay icons _so it's almost law that you must at least appreciate them."

"_Must _we though?"

Blaine had to laugh. Kurt's face. It was pure horror if ever he'd seen it and all because Blaine didn't appreciate the legacy of Dancing Queen.

"We _must_. Come on." With a hard tug, Blaine was launched off the seat and into the craziness. He couldn't help but tease Kurt. Abba were awesome. He had kept a hidden stash of old records, which had been rendered unplayable due to the lack of a working record player, under his bed and amongst them was a decent portion of Bjorn and Benny's classic hits. Kurt was just far too easy to wind up.

As they danced, Kurt wiggling and sashaying with more sass than a La Cage Aux Folle scast member, Blaine could help but glance around at the rest of the school. There were a few people who looked twice, their brains obviously registering either their confusion or the distaste but nobody made it vocal.

In a way - and Kurt had mentioned something similar as they'd talked and danced in the hallway – it was _worse _when hatred lingered unspoken and behind their backs. You couldn't fight against it or provide an argument (not that bigotry deserved the time of day) and it festered under the surface; people were allowed to retain their hatred and channel it secretly. It was unavoidable in the main stream, mostly because people could feel the way they wished to feel but the ignorance and mindless cruelty couldn't be challenged when people kept it in hushed tones.

Still, times were changing, society was changing and things were undoubtedly better than they had been. There was a _reason _to hope and that was something miraculous and wonderful in itself. Life _could _be positive as a gay teenager if only you had the right support system and the belief in yourself to hold your own and trust that you deserved to live, experience and excel in exactly the same way as everyone else.

The people left behind with black patches against their moral code could suck it. They could wallow in their own prejudices. They'd suffer in the future – if karma existed, then it would kick their ass at some point.

Kurt swung his arm to the side, winking as Blaine was forced to twirl under. He followed, laughing as Rachel approached them and began to join their dancing circle. Finn was body popping with Puck but Rachel didn't seem to mind as she shimmied up against Kurt and wooped as Mercedes sidled up to them, her pink dress crunching with each hip wiggle.

"Blaine, right?"

He turned to find Brittany hopping on the balls of her feet. "That's me. You're Brittany?"

"Yes. And you're going to dance with me. That's ok, right? You like to dance?"

With a far too enthusiastic nod, Blaine was whisked into the crowd, Kurt's wide and questioning eyes sparkling with amusement as Brittany began synchronised arm rolls, seventies points and a mixture of high school routines that all seemed completely choreographed. She was giggling as she ruffled her electric yellow dress, nudging Blaine to join; so he did. It was shaky at first, the moves completely new, but as the song changed and Bryan Adams' 'Summer of 69' blasted out, Brittany frowned.

"Follow my lead," he shouted over the guitar riffs. With an exaggerated click of his shoulders, he launched into an elaborate air guitar routine, complete with Elvis legs and Beatles head shakes. It seemed that Brittany S. Pierce was not one to shy away from a challenge as she bent to his level and copied his every move perfectly the first time.

It was incredible. Blaine laughed to himself as Kurt, Rachel, Mike and Mercedes joined them, all copying in their own special way. It was apparent that Rachel and Kurt were the least 'rock' of them but they pretended to be 'groupies' and fell over each other laughing.

"This is ridiculous. This shouldn't be as fun as it is" Kurt hissed in Blaine's ear as they reached the chorus. Blaine took in Kurt's pink cheeks and now-unruly hair and he couldn't help but grab his hand and sing loud.

"_Oh the way you held my hand, I knew that it was now or never. Those were the best days of my life."_

Rolling his eyes, Kurt adopted his 'oh _you're ridiculous but I can't help but find you charming_' face and mouthed the words too, smirking at the particularly fitting ones. It was all so _cheesy _but after all of the tough times the year had pushed their way, Blaine found himself grinning ear-to-ear and holding tighter.

The past could remain where it was. It was the promise of the here and now and the hope for the future that was so amazing and it was all for the taking.

**~o~o~oOo~o~o~**

After Quinn was voted Prom Queen and she had cried sweetly and as expected, it was time to leave. Kurt stayed close to Blaine as they filed out of the gym, dresses crinkled and bow ties loose.

"I can't believe my Junior Prom is over," Rachel sighed dramatically, lifting her dress over the door ledge with pointed feet, much like Dorothy down the Yellow Brick Road. "It feels like such a _milestone. _We're seniors soon then off into the big wide world."

"I feel oooooold," Tina sighed, her head falling easily to Mike's shoulder.

Artie wheeled fast in front of them all, rotating quickly and staring them down. "Yeah, but we got another year of bitchin' times so let's not cry just yet. Be happy, yo!"

Blaine glanced to Kurt who was quite serene, walking slowly with his hands skimming the coarse material of his kilt. His eyes were downcast but he smiled at Artie's words. "I have to agree," he said quietly.

Blaine grinned. Of course Kurt would remain positive. He'd suffered enough negativity for a lifetime. Without thinking, Blaine felt out for Kurt's wrist and tangled their fingers together. Kurt appeared startled for a moment, but he glanced up into Blaine's eyes but with a slow and steady breath, he smiled back and squeezed.

"Well, we're going to win Nationals in New York and show the world how amazing we are," Rachel sang, using Finn's arm to jump out her enthusiasm. "Then we'll win again in our senior year and _prove _it again."

As they reached the cars, everyone began the long process of hugging and high fiving their goodbyes.

"You ready?" Blaine asked, glancing at Kurt as he leaned against Rachel's car playing with the buttons on his jacket.

"If you drop me home quickly, I can grab my bag and then you're dropping me off at Mercedes', aren't you?" He smirked to himself and, as quick as lightening, Blaine felt nerves creep in. They had a night _alone _and _together. _The enormity of it hit him like a freight truck and with enough force to wind him.

"Of course."

Once inside the car, Kurt felt his brain speed into overdrive, cycling through the many _feelings _swirling inside. Blaine had the radio playing soft lullabies thanks to a late night station but it was only providing a soundtrack for the complete and utter panic he felt. The piano melodies weren't helping.

It didn't take long to reach Kurt's house and before Kurt knew it, they were back on the road and only mere miles away from Blaine's house. They hadn't even discussed going further at all but it was the stereotypical evening of Prom and they were so much closer now, so much easier around one another.

In a way, the issue had hidden itself between each sentence they'd spoken to each other all evening. Only now, it was deafening.

"You coming in?" Blaine asked, suddenly out of the car and holding open the door. Kurt swallowed, nervously nodding as he climbed out and grabbed his bag.

"Wow, it's cold out." It was pretty inconsequential but it was something to say to fill the gaps and silence. It was awkward just _thinking _about what everyone else was up to and what people said about Prom night. What was Blaine thinking? Was he seriously _just _inviting Kurt over to sleep and make out a little like last time? They'd progressed to full scale kissing, hands wandering a little but no further and _that, _Kurt thought, was overwhelming enough. Anything else would break his brain – that was a fact. Even though he didn't feel anywhere near as frightened at the thought of it being Blaine being the one he'd do it with, the whole act was still massively intimidating.

He was the token twelve year old milk maid. He was the snappy, witty one. Nobody described him as _hot _the way they did Puck, he wasn't wholesome and handsome like Finn, he certainly wasn't hip like Mike Chang and nerdy-cute was Sam's style, not his. He didn't _fit _into a box and as liberating as it was, it also made it so hard to work out if someone liked what was on offer.

Blaine did but this was sex and Kurt knew, as he stepped into the warmth of the hallway, that sex was a very different issue.

It took Blaine's playful frown to realise he was shivering. "Are you cold?" Blaine asked, rubbing his hands up Kurt's arms from wrist to shoulder, the friction sending Kurt's heart fluttering. It was going to be a _very long_ night and Kurt took a breath, unsure whether that was potentially the best thing in the world or a curse.

"A bit, yes."

"Ok," Blaine smiled, swinging Kurt's bag over his shoulder, "do you want a hot drink?"

"Do I get marshmallows like last time?"

Blaine laughed to himself. As they made their way to the kitchen, Kurt noticed that Blaine's cheeks were flushed from the chill outside and it was enough to make him relax a little. Blaine was _just_ as human, _just_ as capable of being nervous so it was ok to feel on edge.

"Seeing as it's you." Blaine bit his lip, smiling coy and only a touch flirtatious.

As the water boiled and Blaine began pouring, Kurt began the mammoth task of unhooking his boots slowly, one by one.

It was torture. Blaine groaned internally, forcing himself to keep his eyes _on the mugs _and to not allow them to linger on Kurt's long legs, that damn kilt and the way the shape of it made Kurt's waist seem even tinier and... Kurt had absolutely no idea the effect he had. That much was so obvious. When it was safe to turn around, Blaine grabbed both mugs and turned to find Kurt sitting at the counter in his kilt, black leggings, socks and open white shirt.

He swallowed hard. "I hope it's not too hot to drink."

Waving a dismissive hand, Kurt took the hot chocolate and cuddled it to him. "Smells amazing."

"So, tonight was fun."

Kurt grinned over the curve of his mug. "It was. I was pleasantly impressed with the student body's ability to contain their hatred for just one night. Definitely a refreshing change." Kurt laughed with only a tinge of bitterness.

"Here's to…" Blaine's mind trailed blank. Kurt laughed against the rim of his mug, closing his eyes against the steam.

"Oblivious parents?"

Laughing, Blaine nodded. "Air guitar."

"My kilt."

At that, Blaine clinked his mug to Kurt's and raised his brows appreciatively. "Inherited cufflinks and proving a point."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt scoffed. "Abba."

"Oh god," Blaine groaned, chuckling as he leaned forward on his elbows and sighed happily. "Ms Pillsbury. Your guidance counsellor?"

Kurt sucked in a breath, the steam tickling his nose. Blaine didn't look away; instead he just stared with a loose and almost serene grin, so knowing and _far too _gorgeous. "I'll drink to that," Kurt said softly and offered his own clink.

He could barely breathe steady enough to lean back but he did, without looking away.

"How about we read those letters?" Blaine asked, draining the last of his hot chocolate.

Kurt shuddered, trying to mask it with a deep breath. Yes, was the answer. Yes to _anything_.

As they reached Blaine's room, Kurt tugged out his sleepwear, hugging it to his stomach. "May I?" He gestured towards the door as if to indicate using the bathroom.

Blinking from the floor as he dragged the wooden crate out, Blaine smiled gently. "Of course. Just make yourself at home."

As Kurt tiptoed down the hall, the silence felt enormous, as if every single word, movement and sound was charged with meaning. Even the lilting sound of Blaine's breathing was causing Kurt to lose his mind. It was so steady and _there, _so gentle but necessary and, oh god, it was just a tiny part of the whole entity that was Blaine Anderson.

Up close and alone, everything became so heightened, pulse racing and skin tingling if Blaine so much as stepped an inch closer. Kurt sighed, running a comb through his hair. It felt _amazing, _of course, but the fact that every detail from the way Blaine's shirt had fallen open and exposed his neck and collar bone to the odd realisation that Blaine looked weirdly adorable socks was just _infuriating._

Surely it was weird. Socks shouldn't be so endearing but, on Blaine, they were. They were comfortable and made him look softer in a way that quelled a little of the nervous energy bubbling in Kurt's stomach.

It was a mantra now. 'You can do this. You can do this."

Having been so unkissed and untouched for so long, Kurt knew it was a product of the overwhelming knowledge that he _could _now; he could grab Blaine and kiss the exposed triangle of skin at his neck, he could tug his shirt off and _see _his muscles a lot clearer than through the damned material... he could so _anything _and that was the problem.

He had absolutely no idea how but there was one thing Kurt knew he was sure of and that was how much he wanted things_._

Blaine was still sitting cross legged on the floor in his shirt and pants when Kurt returned, face washed and clear. Blaine couldn't help but stare as the thin white material of Kurt's t-shirt loosely fell against his stomach and left little to the imagination – so much for vests, ties, scarves and the multitude of figure hugging cardigans Kurt owned. White t-shirts, Blaine thought to himself, should be the only thing allowed in Kurt's wardrobe forever.

"You find them ok?" Kurt asked, sitting tall, back straight and legs crossed neatly on the edge of the bed.

"Kurt," Blaine deadpanned, swirling his eyes, "they're organised in date order. Of _course _I found them ok."

"Ok, smartie pants. Give me a second." Blaine watched Kurt root around in his own bag, drawing out his patterned book and pile of envelopes tied with a particularly striking slither of magenta ribbon. If it had been anyone else, the sight could have been a little absurd and almost verging on the terribly realm of the Mary Sue but Blaine grinned secretly to himself – Kurt was one of life's originals and the fact he owned ribbon in many colours was _not at all _surprising. Blaine pressed his lips together to suppress a smile – Kurt no doubt owned the world's largest and most well stocked craft cupboard. The ladies of The Shopping Channel would no doubt be supremely jealous.

"Ok, I'll show you mine if you show me yours." The words were out before Blaine could stop his lips from moving. Kurt blinked back at him, eyes wide and almost twitching.

"Wow, ok." Biting his cheek, Kurt smiled tightly but his eyes sparkled and Blaine breathed out in relief. Baby steps. They'd get past the silent awkwardness soon enough.

"Can I ask you something?"

Kurt nodded, shuffling to sit side-by-side. "The French. Explain?"

Kurt's smile was nothing short of beaming. "Oh, Blaine. You have no idea. I'm almost positive that Marie Antoinette is a figure in my family's lineage. Either that or I was French in a past life. I don't know," he blushed a little and Blaine felt his stomach flutter, "I seem to excel at it and it's a beautiful language so I always _liked _doing the homework. Plus, I listen to a lot of French music so that helped. We used to have this cute young male French exchange student teacher who took us for one-to-one speaking sessions so _that _may have helped a little or a lot. I want to go to Paris some day and I'm a planner. No way will I ever visit a foreign city without at _least _knowing the basics in order to converse a little. I will never be seen as some dumb uncultured American."

He was laughing to himself now and Blaine couldn't help it, leaning to press a soft kiss to Kurt's cheek.

"What was that for?"

"Just you," Blaine offered, staying close. "I ask you such a simple question and I have a feeling, that, with anyone else you'd have answered in only a few short words but you didn't."

"No, I didn't." Nibbling at his lip and untying the bow, Kurt glanced down with a sudden burst of bashfulness. "And _yes, _you are right. But don't get all big headed because you think you're special." He glanced up playfully.

"Oh no. I wouldn't dream of it. Anyway, I always loved the French. I told you I used to research so much of the Latin, right? I was never _that _amazing at it even though it is my favourite subject. Wes is incredible. He helped us out a lot in Italy but I always loved to write those little things to you."

"It was very sweet."

Blaine turned, shoulder leaning comfortably against Kurt's. "Ok. I hope we're in _that _place because look." He handed Kurt a slice of cream imprinted stationary.

"Oh my god. Do not make me read it. No. I refuse!" Kurt groaned, pressing his head into his hands and laughing, although it was laced with embarrassment.

"_Kurt, _come on. You can make me read my horrible drunken letter. I'll even do a dramatic reading for you."

"You're ridiculous," Kurt whined, speaking through his fingers. "I may hate you if you make me read _that thing._"

Blaine couldn't help but sigh happily. Kurt was _fun. _It had been a long time in coming to find someone so _easy _to be with. His bedroom had so many happy memories now and after years of forcing them and praying for them, he now had moments to replay in his mind when he felt down.

"Oh my god, I haven't read this in _so long,_" Blaine gasped, "Listen-"

"No. I won't. This is cruelty."

"Come on. It's _cute."_

Kurt groaned once more, daring to peek through his fingers. "Not cute. It's mortifying. You didn't even _say _anything bad in your terribly written drunken letter but _that Blaine _is not a letter I wish to be reminded of."

"It's adorable and far too kind. Just listen," he laughed to himself, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder regardless of his stiff posture and lack of amenability to succumbing to the humiliation. "_**You could have greased a pan with his head.**_"

"I swear to god, Blaine. This is, to quote my brother, not cool."

Blaine was giggling now. It was so strangely perfect to feel comfortable enough to do such a thing with Kurt and even though he was complaining and ramping up the dramatics, Blaine could see the smile threatening to creep on his lips through his fingers.

"_**I get that he has no doubt got a girlfriend with legs to sacrifice yourself for and he'd never look twice at me no matter how much in season McQueen I was wearing**_**. **Oh, I forgot you thought I was straight."

"I despise you right now," Kurt spat but Blaine continued, spluttering over his words as he read.

"_**I don't meet guys much, so he was the best thing about my day.**_" Blaine stopped, his heart aching. Kurt unpeeled his hands from his face. His cheeks were a touch blotchy but his eyes were rounded and bright, fraying around the edges with emotion. "Kurt, I looked at you for not even a minute and spent most of the performance dancing like a wounded chicken. I know that because those were the exact words that Jeff used when we came off stage."

Kurt pressed his lips together in a smile. "Well, I don't lie, Blaine."

"I was really the best thing about your day?" Blaine asked, leaning forward, face nearing Kurt's and causing his heart to hammer frantically.

"Still are," Kurt said quietly, bravely refusing to look away. "Unfortunately." He laughed to himself but looked immediately back into Blaine's eyes as they swam out of focus and their lips met, warm and slowly easing into a kiss that caused Blaine to let the papers to slide away.

Kurt stumbled a little, kicking his feet out of their knot and kneeling just as Blaine curled closer, trapping him to the side of the bed. "When I said that I missed you. When I was in Italy. I really did. I felt empty, like I needed to her your thoughts and it drove me crazy."

He breathed the words against Kurt's lips, sliding his hands around his waist and settling against Kurt's side just as they both melted down against the feathery duvet trailing over the edge of the bed. It was awkward; the floor was hard and paper littered the carpet but Kurt felt so hot and so very, very close - stopping really wasn't an option.

"When I saw you at the Lima Bean, I nearly didn't come inside. I'd forgotten what you looked like and when I saw you again," Kurt sucked in a breath as Blaine kissed lightly at his neck, hands wandering to slip slightly up and under the thin cotton of his t-shirt, "you, um, it was like I'd dreamed you up and that dream was coming to life because you were actually there. I don't know. It makes sense in my head."

"When I got to hug you, I almost passed out. It was like 'wow he's real'. I didn't remember you correctly. When I saw you again, it was so stupid because it should have been me writing the embarrassingly frank letters about finding _**you**_ gorgeous."

"Ouch," Kurt hissed. He stretched up causing Blaine to lean back. His face was startled.

"What? You ok?"

Wrinkling his nose, Kurt pulled the lid of the wooden box from beside him. "This is not comfortable."

"No. you're right" Blaine sighed and before he was even fully aware of his actions, he pulled Kurt's hand and dragged them both to the bed, sliding close to Kurt and kissing him gently twice before allowing his hand to snake to his hips.

Kurt was shivering, licks of pleasure teasing at his skin wherever Blaine happened to touch. Tingles shook his body as Blaine's fingers pressed into his skin, anchoring him and almost climbing against him to kiss harder.

"Blaine."

"Mhhhhmmmm?"

Kurt huffed out a breath against Blaine's lips, blinking against the jolt in electricity down his spine at Blaine's hand, warm and wide against his stomach. "Oh my god, Blaine." He couldn't focus anymore. The room seemed to spin, the planet tilting on its axis and Blaine seemed to be the only solid and unmoving element in the world. He was so steady and curled all around him like a blanket, touching and kissing in the most idyllic rhythm.

"We can stop," Blaine whispered, his lips trailing down to Kurt's collarbone where they played with the arc and curves of bone and taut skin. Blaine felt the world slip away, Kurt's hands clasped in the cool cotton of Blaine's shirt, tension pulsing then releasing at equal pace until suddenly hands were at the small of his back, shaking but pulling hard at the material there.

"Kurt?" He didn't look up but he felt Kurt's breath against his cheek and then at his ear.

"Not stopping." The words were ragged and shivering but Kurt's hands were insistent. The fact that Blaine hadn't lost his mind with lust was a miracle but as Kurt's fingers pattered his skin for the first time, he made a noise so embarrassingly uncontrolled that he sat bolt upright. "Um, wow."

Kurt looked unravelled. His hair was dishevelled; the seam of his pants was skewed completely. Above anything, his cheeks were a most delicious shade of pink that made Blaine so desperate to kiss at them.

"Was that awful?"

"No," Blaine breathed, half laughing. "No way. I just... _Kurt."_

It was the age old difficulty. Thinking about sex was enough to scramble Blaine's brain but talking about it was even more daunting, especially when the one person you wanted to do it with was currently sprawled beside you.

"What? Why '_Kurt'?" _

Choking out a laugh, Blaine bit his lip, rolling his shoulders as if limbering up. "Because."

Kurt dragged himself to sit, his hands clasped in his knee. It was entirely uncharacteristic but Blaine could see the will power in his eyes and knew Kurt was as nervous, if not more so than he. "We need to talk about this."

"Yes." The world seemed to zero in, accentuating everything from the sound of breathing to the most miniscule movements. "I'm sorry I stopped. I thought-"

"That I wanted you to?"

"Well, yes. We've talked about it before and the night of the concert at your school was amazing, Kurt, but I just want to make sure we're both on the same page before we let hormones take over and I'm telling you, mine are pretty domineering when they want to be." He cringed outwardly, curling his lip and laughing self consciously.

Kurt slotted his tongue into his teeth and smiled, the tension breaking. "I – I never thought I'd be admitting this or even speaking of this with another human being but me too. I mean, I – I've thought about it more."

Someone was going to pinch him. It was the _only _explanation. Blaine was either dreaming or he was dead and in some sort of miraculous world where only the things you truly want come true so perfectly. "You have?"

Blaine watched as Kurt tightened the grip on his own hands, his knuckles flashing white. He was so out of his comfort zone – that much was obvious and Blaine knew he was too – but it was like everything else in his life – he faced it head on.

"Yes. I just – I didn't expect anything. I didn't think that just because its Prom night and we're alone in a big empty house... urgh." He sank forward, cringing into his hands and Blaine had to laugh. "It sounds like some god-awful movie doesn't it?"

Blaine smiled and leaned closer, untangling Kurt's fingers to replace them with his own. "Pretty much but at least we can say we conformed to at least _one _teenage stereotype, right?"

Kurt's eyes twinkled. "That's a satisfying thought. Not my usual style but I like it. Just this once though."

They stared longer than normal, Kurt chewing his lip again. Blaine made a mental note to remember exactly how Kurt looked in that moment: so beautifully sweet, bold and softer than he'd ever been.

"Um." Blaine breathed in deep. "I guess we should just, um-"

"Blaine, just kiss me," Kurt rushed out, eyes wide and a little manic.

"Awkward?"

Kurt nodded, frowning at the loss of the easiness that flowed before the dreaded tension seeped in. It was inevitable that _anything _would begin as a fumbling mess but they were too secure with one another now that it was frustrating when the weirdness reared its ugly head.

The cushions slid away from behind Kurt's head as Blaine leaned down with a kiss that began a little harder than expected. It didn't take long for Kurt's hands to resume their earlier position, suddenly hotter than before and sliding with more friction.

Kurt could hear himself. The private kinds of noises that he never imagined allowing another person to hear were escaping his mouth with his brain catching up seconds later and flushing hot at the sudden awareness. It was sometimes a curse to be so self aware but as Blaine's fingers tucked against the waistband of his pants, the smooth pads of them tickling as they dotted the line just above the elastic, everything became somewhat cloudy.

As if to question, Blaine shuffled to straddle him to edge up his t-shirt and suddenly everything became so starkly real that Kurt felt his heart clench and eyes prick with moisture. He didn't stop though and neither did Blaine. Instead, Kurt shuffled a little, hands clinging to Blaine's shoulders as warm kisses were pressed along his jaw.

He could feel the stutter of his breath, the way his chest seemed to be heaving and that was when his ears started ringing. Blaine leaned up, looking directly into his eyes and Kurt was certain he'd have cried had Blaine not made eye contact. "You ok?"

Nodding quickly, Kurt leaned up desperately, seeking Blaine's lips but Blaine pressed a hand to his chest. "Kurt. _Kurt."_

"What?"

He leaned back against the one remaining cushion, chest rising and falling quickly. Blaine frowned a little but offered a gentle smile. "I don't want to just rush through this and power through . You know?"

With a smile verging on the fake, Kurt nodded his agreement. Powering through wasn't the ideal and Kurt could see the sincerity in Blaine's expression but the alternative was terrifying. Dragging it out, prolonging the looks and focus was just _too much; _he'd be useless and fumbling and there was no way he could withstand Blaine's eyes lingering on him because he'd die. Actually _die_.

"It's just-"

"I know. I feel it too but you keep kissing me to distract me."

Kurt whimpered, frowning. "I know I do. I do. It's just, I've never... _you know." _

"Me either, Kurt." Blaine could see it, the shake behind Kurt's eyes. "But I trust you and right now, you could pretty much do anything and I think I'd let you and that's not to say that you should feel the same way but when you do that, it just makes me think that you're not ready and that you... not that you don't trust me but that you don't want to do this just yet and that's _fine _but don't just do this because we're here and you think we've started something we can't stop. Because we can. If you want to."

"I don't want to stop," Kurt said quickly, blushing deep but breathing through it and searching for Blaine's hand. He found his wrist and held tight. "I don't. I'm hardly an expert at this and you, you're touching me and looking at me and I can't stand the way it makes me feel because it's like you're looking into my soul or something. That's scary."

"I know," Blaine smiled, leaning in to kiss at Kurt's lips softly, "but it's also what's kind of amazing. Plus, look. Look at what you're doing now."

Kurt frowned, his hands trailing lightly down Blaine's arms with absolutely no thought. He gasped, stopping and pressing his lips together in a smile. "See. _This _is what I mean. We go from being so comfortableto me freaking out. Ok. Stay here. Stay right here in this moment like this," he urged and Blaine grinned wide at the steely determination in Kurt's eyes.

"Ok then. Can I take this off?" Blaine asked simply, sitting back on his heels with his hands still at the hem of Kurt's t-shirt. "This is me avoiding the awkwardness."

With a slow exhale, Kurt nodded once. Blaine didn't look away and Kurt could feel the pull of desperation, the need to jump and snap the focus but Blaine's eyes dragged slowly down to follow his own hands as they edged the material higher and higher until it reached his neck. Kurt loosened his grip on Blaine's knee to raise his arms through the holes and watched as Blaine let it flutter to the floor amongst the papers.

"Cold," Kurt said sharply, the tremble in his voice so evident. It was an attempt at a joke that fell on deaf ears as Blaine leaned down, eyes hooded and warm, to kiss him slowly. It was languid, deep and far too incredible that Kurt was sure he couldn't take anymore, Blaine's tongue slid along his lips and eased into his mouth.

Kurt stilled for a second, kissing back but only just. He sighed into Blaine's mouth, hands now so tight against Blaine biceps that he was sure it'd bruise but that was the thing – Blaine didn't flinch, he didn't protest or complain. He just dragged his hands, heavy and firm, down Kurt's chest and hips, kneading the skin and feeling every single inch.

In a second, Kurt felt out for the edge of the crisp white of Blaine's shirt and pulled hard. As a small chuckle fell from Blaine's lips, Kurt glanced up to see Blaine's head disappear through the film of cotton, only to emerge flushed and framed with short curls.

"We ok?" he asked gently, throwing his own shirt on top of Kurt's discarded t-shirt and leaning close again to kiss the very tip of Kurt's nose.

Emotion bloomed in Kurt's stomach, creeping at his throat as he swallowed thickly and smiled. "Yes."

It was as Blaine's eyes scanned down over his bare chest and arms that Kurt screwed his eyes shut and exhaled again slowly. Something tickled though and he opened them quickly, watching as Blaine teased his lip through his teeth and trailed his fingers down from collar bone to hip, stopping at the thin pale hairs that Kurt hated. _Hated._

Blaine wasn't pale and smooth. He was darker – more of an olive color – and with a smattering of hair in all of the right places. It was one thing to be compared to a twelve year old milk maid but to truly feel like one against someone as muscular and toned and _manly _as Blaine was enough to cause him to huff out a frustrated breath.

"Don't." Kurt looked up at Blaine's warning, the force of the words behind his eyes.

"Don't what?" Kurt said, forcing the frown from his forehead.

"Do that," Blaine urged, laying his hands flat against Kurt's chest. The warmth spread out evenly, as if magically transferring from Blaine's fingertips. "I can almost _hear _you thinking about milk maids and pear hips and every single thing you wrote to me and I'm telling you to stop. Don't do that."

"Blaine-"

"No. Kurt," he all but growled, "I know what you told me and I know everyone sees themselves differently but let's not do that. I'm _freaking out _right now and that's normal but I can't stand the thought of you considering that I see anything but _you _and how amazing you are."

"Ok." It's with that resignation that Kurt shook his head, shaking it loose of the tension because the look in Blaine's eyes – the longing, the tenderness and bright honesty – was intoxicating. Kurt swallowed, knowing it would take a long, long time to truly feel at ease with being so exposed but as Blaine smoothed his palms over Kurt's cheeks and kissed him, drawing it out until Kurt felt breathless, everything seemed to fall into place.

Blaine lay down too, curving to Kurt's side and kissing him softly. Kurt tilted them over, dragging Blaine to press him down as he steadied himself with Blaine's weight.

There was something so striking about Kurt - there always had been - but as he tentatively slid his leg between Blaine's, it was all so clear. Blaine groaned into the kiss, hoping that everything he felt was being conveyed because his mind was slipping and epiphanies seemed to spring up at every second. Kurt was brave and wonderful but he was never ever one to give up, no matter how tough or intimidating a situation was.

With gentle kisses, Blaine could feel the roll of Kurt's shoulders and knew, right there, that together they were the perfect match. Blaine had always been a trier, a soldier with life because he'd had to battle on and, on many occasions, had been made to feel that he just hadn't quite hit the mark. He excelled, yes, but personally, he was lost.

But not with Kurt. The realisation that hit him square in the chest.

Kurt's breathing seemed to grow rapid as they touched and kissed and finally – _finally – _got as close as they possibly could. All Blaine could smell was a heady mix of Kurt's cucumber face wash and the lingering detergent scene on his sheets but it was the wet press of Kurt's lips and the way he tasted that was driving him crazy. He was _so so _smooth in every sense – a complete antithesis to himself – with long planes of pale skin and taut muscle all ending in his waist that Blaine had tried _not _to think too much about for weeks.

He was gorgeous and real and _his_.

Blaine clenched his jaw as the arousal almost choked him, clouding his mind till he groaned deep in his throat. Kurt arched his back, eyes closed and hands tight in the pale cotton of the sheets.

"I – I... Kurt." Blaine's mouth went dry as Kurt's hand skimmed the edge of his pants and clung to his hip as they rocked together, Blaine was so sure he was going to fall to pieces.

Kurt let out a soft and choked noise, his breathing coming quick and fast as he clambered up, clinging to Blaine's shoulders tightly.

"I do trust you," he whispered, shaking and with the hint of a smile that Blaine caught out of the corner of his eyes, blissful and real.

Blaine sighed audibly, pressing frantic and open mouthed kisses to every patch of skin available. He could feel it, the heat and pressure building low between his legs, the spread of it through his stomach and the way it made him tremble with intensity.

Kurt's skin was so soft, his limbs so strong but slim. The fact that they were here togetherfelt monumental as it filled him up and sent his head spiralling. As if to read his mind, Kurt pulled at his pants and managed to work them down in a second.

"Give me – just – "Blaine stuttered, tugging at them and throwing them with the rest of the items of clothing. As he turned back quickly, Kurt kissed him surely, curling his leg over to hold him in place.

Nothing had ever felt as good in his entire life. The _need _overpowered him, sending his brain spiralling so fast that he found himself smiling against Kurt's lips and pressing down a little harder between Kurt's legs.

"Blaine. _Blaine. Oh my god," _Kurt rushed out, scrambling hands finding their place at Blaine's hips again and gripping tight.

"This – I just –" Kurt moved against him with _just _the right amount of pressure, angling himself closer and making the sweetest and sexiest noises Blaine was sure he'd ever heard. He'd imagined so many ways that being intimate with someone could have gone; now they all seemed so impersonal, so staged and skilled and abstract that as Blaine opened his eyes to press a fervent kiss to Kurt's lips, draining both of them of the final sliver of space, it felt like he finally _understood_.

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's middle, swooning a little as Kurt crawled up to fit himself easily into Blaine's lap and curled into him, kissing slower and still trembling a little. "Good?"

"Mmmm hhmmm," Kurt hummed against Blaine's lips, drunk on the feelings cascading his skin and setting him on fire from the inside. He could feel himself tensing, his arms looping tight around Blaine's neck as he felt himself rub up against Blaine's erection. His eyes slammed shut at the intensity just as Blaine's arms circled his waist, cocooning him and keeping them together – so close but _never close enough_.

"_Blaine."_

"I know," was the answer, scratchy and raw.

Kurt could feel the material of his pants rubbing against him, sending his head reeling but as Blaine pressed closer and dragged down over and over, kissing at his neck and shoulders in the most precious bursts of energy, it was all Kurt could do to not unravel entirely. There was no way to think in sentences; everything burred and became one. They both merged together and Kurt felt himself choke with emotion feeling Blaine seek out the perfect position, twisting them a little until all Kurt could see was white.

"Oh – oh my –" he breathed out, tucking his head to Blaine's shoulder and rocking back into Blaine with only his shaking arms to keep him up. "I – Blaine, I –"

It was so messy. It felt like Blaine was gripping him so tight so that he didn't shatter into a thousand pieces. But Kurt felt his entire body tense, with bright spots of pleasure in his thighs then his stomach and an then ache so deep and mind blowing that pooled and dragged his entire body down again and again against Blaine until he gasped brokenly, fingers hard in Blaine's shoulders and eyes clamped shut.

It was like falling. Like, every cell in his body was soaring and singing with feeling. Blaine's grip tightened too and with a desperate and hard kiss to Kurt's temple, lips slipping down to his cheek messily, Kurt felt him shudder and choke out a noise before slumping heavily against him.

"Oh _my _god."

Kurt couldn't move. His limbs felt fatigued and heavy in the most surprising way but shock still coursed through his veins as reality hit. Blaine was wrapped around him, snuffling close to his ear, his skin so warm and inviting. None of it felt scary anymore.

It wasn't at all like he'd expected. They still had a long way to go and much more to explore but as far as most people were concerned, getting off with your boyfriend and being half naked was a pretty good first step. A ripple of laughter threatened in his stomach but he pressed his nose to Blaine's shoulder and smiled.

"Blaine? Are you ok?" Kurt asked, gently.

"You want a list of adjectives because if I find enough energy to think then may have a few hundred to give you."

Biting his lip to fight back a giggle, Kurt peeled his arms away and ducked, finding Blaine's eyes with ease. They were lazy but bright with the residual intensity of what had just happened. "Would they be good adjectives?"

Looking into each other's eyes was strange. There was a thin film of embarrassment, caused by the enormity of the night and how almost shamelessly desperate everything had been but Blaine wrinkled his nose, nodded his head in the cutest way and broke the ice in an instant.

"The best."

Blaine stretched out his legs and unfurled his arms from Kurt's body, his heart still hammering. Kurt looked perfect. Truly perfect. Everything was still somewhat of a blur but just _looking _at the blaze in Kurt's eyes and the way he seemed to be smiling now was nothing short of wonderful. He looked utterly debauched, of course, but, at the same time, loose and as open as Blaine was sure he'd ever seen him.

"I think I'll, um –" Kurt tried, gesturing towards the door.

Thinking ahead, Blaine slid off the bed, frowning at the loss of warmth. "Here. Take these." He pulled a pair of grey boxers out of his draw and followed them up with a pair of pale blue pyjama pants.

"Oh, thank god you gave them to me because I didn't know how to ask," Kurt laughed, blushing slightly. It seemed strange after what they'd just done.

"Hurry back."

Kurt flushed, grinning. He padded out of the room and Blaine watched until he disappeared. It didn't take long to get cleaned up and changed into fresh pants and a thin black t-shirt. He skipped downstairs to check the locks feeling particularly giddy before straightening out his sheets and turning off the lights till only the lamp on his nightstand remained.

Kurt tiptoed back in a few moments later, smelling of cucumber once more. Blaine smiled to himself in the semi-darkness. Approaching the bed, Kurt looked just as soft as he had before; his eyes flickered for a second in hesitation.

Clicking out the light, Blaine felt out for Kurt's hand, his skin blanketing with warmth at the sound of Kurt's 'oh' and the light chuckle he let out as Blaine pulled him close. "I'm a cuddler."

"How ever did I guess?"

Feeling Kurt curl to his side, Blaine pressed a kiss to his forehead then his shoulder and finally to the cotton t-shirt covering his chest. He settled his head down and threaded their legs together with a happy sigh. "Tonight wa-"

"No talking, Blaine. Talk in the morning. This is much nicer."

With a fond smile and upon feeling Kurt's fingers tease gently at the hem of his vest and settling against the small of his back where he knew he was warmest, Blaine allowed his eyes to close, contented.

* * *

><p><strong>My goodness. THAT Chapter took it out of me. This one is pretty special to me so I REALLY REALLY hoped you liked it.<strong>

**Couple of things:  
>- NO WAY was I making Prom was angsty as in canon. Karofsky's gone to greener pastures (and yes, i'll deal with him briefly in the final section) and I liked what Burt said - top offender disappears then the minions don't know what to do. I hope you didn't feel the story seemed less impactful (to pinch RMurphy's favourite word!) that way<br>- the whole 'losing virginity' thing. I don't care what ANYONE says... sex doesn't just mean full blown 'what you'd expect in smut fic' sex. There's NO doubt about it that they'd go further but in time. I think THIS at this moment in the story was MORE than enough because... well, it speaks for itself :)  
>- YES, I will deal a little with the morning after but maybe not in the way you expect. If you want it, I'll write it later and use it as an outtake! ; )<strong>

**The final instalment will be upin the next day and a half (commitments permitting!) and then that's it : (**

**I'm so VERY grateful for your lovely comments and love for this story. I really hope you like the ending and please do let me know what you think : )**

***cuddles***


	22. Yours

**Title: **Wild Horses - Final Installment  
><strong><span>Word Count<span>: **~8,200  
><strong><span>Warnings:<span>** AU  
><strong><span>Rating:<span>** PG-13  
><strong><span>Summary:<span>** A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

**Author's Notes**  
>I can't believe I'm finished. This story took much longer than ever expected because life has a funny way of getting in the way but I have never ever loved writing <em>anything <em>as much as I have loved writing this. It's so so special to me and the fact that it has been loved in return by at least _one _person is enough to make me very happy.

I have a full Author's Notes at the end of the Chapter but, for now, I'll say a massive thank you to the lovely **whenidance** for reading over the final section and for her reassurance and to **canuckpagali** for the most fabulously indepth and wonderful help carefully teasing this thing into shape :)

* * *

><p>Blaine placed his leather satchel on the seat beside him and drew out his Chemistry textbook and notepad. It was going to be a long slog through the wonderful world of kinetic-molecular theory before he even considered lunch but his mind was consumed with one thing – Kurt.<p>

Songs had warned of the all-consuming feelings; films had warned of lost appetites and wandering brains. On top of all of that, an ache, so deep and distracting, refused to budge, blooming with happiness and triggering a fresh cycle of images, sounds and memories from Prom and their evening together.

It was difficult to remember the correct day of the week never mind tackle some heinous homework task which, just from a first glance, looked completely painful.

Warblers practice had been a distraction, though. Jeff had regaled him with talk of his new girlfriend – her name was Violet and her hair was purple. She was apparently beautiful; the hottest and sexiest girl in all of Ohio and the apparent love of his life. Blaine could see it too, the giddy 'I'm so many miles away' look in his friend's eyes and it wasn't hard to empathise so they'd talked and talked and shared stories until Wes had almost smashed the wooden desk with a slam of his gavel.

They were planning for an epic tour of the residential homes in Lima with a medley of Frank Sinatra classics and regardless of how tragic it sounded, Blaine had scored the lead on both 'Fly me to the Moon' _and '_New York, New York'. New York, _really_? Clearly someone was mocking him.

Kurt was going away and a whole week felt like a century but he was forced to sing a love song to the city that was stealing his boyfriend.

"Dude! Dude. Look." Jeff called, rushing late into the common room and thrusting his cell in Blaine's hand. He was vibrating with excitement and flopped down in the adjacent seat, slapping his hands on his knees. "It's from Violet."

'**I had the most amazing, brilliant, crazy beautiful night last night. I can't stop thinking about you'** the text read.

"Wow," Blaine breathed, smiling, "so, happy Jeff?"

"Man, it's like I'm climbing the walls. Seriously! She's the _coolest _girl I've ever met. We swapped hoodies. Like, who knew that could be so amazing. I've worn it like every day since and it still smells of her and I'm going crazy. Do you think girls can drive you crazy? Well, I mean guys for you but you know what I mean."

Laughing, Blaine tossed the phone back. "You have no idea how much I understand," he sighed, letting his head drop back onto the firm leather.

"Ok, gentlemen!" Wes called from the front, "you've got five more minutes and we're going over Nick's solo again then Blaine, you're up. We need to cover both of yours before we leave."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "No rest for the wicked, huh?"

"No. Afraid not." Blaine frowned, shutting his eyes and allowing, for five minutes, to indulge in his own secret thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>One Day Earlier<strong>

Kurt blinked lazily, rolling his shoulders into the mattress with a sleep snuffle. It was so very dark, the kind of dark that feels like a blanket, thick and all encompassing.

As the world seeped back in, so did the image of Blaine lying so very close next to him. He looked so peaceful with his sleep ruffled hair, crinkled face and loose limbs. He was curled on his side with half of his face buried in the pillow and his left arm limply draped over Kurt's waist, fingers resting lightly against the small of his back. Kurt smiled, half tempted to sneak into Blaine's dreams, drag him out and whisper all kinds of pathetically romantic things that _nobody _in their right mind would say without being shameless or exceptionally drunk.

The evening had not developed as expected. Sighing happily, Kurt allowed his eyes to track the curve of Blaine's shoulder as it eased into a graceful but unmentionably hot line of muscles that made up his bicep. Blaine's skin was such a contrast to his own; he was darker, almost olive skinned, and had something of the old fashioned handsome in him. Even from the very first day they'd 'met', Kurt had known that Blaine was something special but now, he was fully fleshed out and fascinating. It was an internal struggle to hold back from asking mundane questions about his 'favorite this' and 'favorite that' because knowing everything still didn't seem enough.

Never had another human being been so _special _before and even lying in the darkness and allowing himself to stare felt so _necessary_.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd never been granted permission to look at another guy in such depth before but something inside refused to believe that. No other guy was _Blaine _and that's what it came down to. There'd been many an evening when Kurt had slid into bed choked and so sure he'd end up alone. It was those memories that Kurt knew he'd cling to forever because they ensured he would never ever take a single moment with Blaine for granted.

Somehow – and in a world that Kurt would never consider kind – they'd found each other and it was _amazing. _

"You're so far away," Blaine whispered, his eyes still closed. Kurt jolted, feeling his face flush at being caught.

"What?" He tugged the sheet up, squirming at the sudden contained heat smothering his lower half. As Blaine's legs shuffled, Kurt bit his lip to contain what would most definitely be a blissful moan of pleasure because they were all tangled and Blaine was as pliable as Kurt had ever seen him.

It was perfect.

"You." Blaine opened his eyes, smiling softly. He pulled up his other hand and tried to slide it around Kurt's waist. "You're too far away." Blaine voice was rougher, thick with sleep and the vibrations of it sent tingles to the very tip of Kurt's toes.

Blaine was _right there _and practically begging for more.

"Oh."

With that, Blaine tugged him forward, nudging his head into Kurt's chest and sighing with a deep warm breath that cascaded over Kurt's arm.

"Better."

"Blaine?"

"Mmmm hmmm?"

Kurt glanced down, eyes following each individual curl as he spoke. "Um. Tonight after, well, _after. _I know that we didn't talk a lot or do a lot and I just, I just wanted you to know what it wasn't because I didn-"

"Kurt. I had no coherent words and no energy. I just wanted to be close to you and I knew we'd talk about it sometime. So, you really don't need to explain. I get it."

"Good." Kurt breathed out, his worries dissolving into the darkness. "I know what I felt all those months ago and what I said in my letter about, um, feelings and... you know? I just don't want there to be any presumptions or ambiguity."

"Kurt," Blaine laughed lightly, tilting his head up so their eyes were aligned, "as if I'd presume anything with you. You surprise me at every turn so I wouldn't dream of it."

Blaine's lips. They were another thing to add to his fast growing list of perfect things. It was such a shame that God didn't exist because if there were someone to thank then Kurt was sure he'd send them the mother of all gift baskets for dreaming up Blaine's lips alone. He kept his eyes on them and grinned at Blaine's words.

"You know me a little too well. Should I be worried?"

Smirking, Blaine buried his head into Kurt's t-shirt. "You say that like there are not a million other things left to learn."

"True. So very very true."

Kurt didn't have time to take a breath as Blaine's lips were on his, pressing lightly as if to taste and savour. Kurt ached up into Blaine's heat, stealing it and sliding his arms around his shoulders. Each touch was lingering and drawn out so exquisitely that Kurt felt his toes curl into the mattress.

Blaine tipped them over without breaking their lip – to – lip contact until Kurt was wrapped around him, almost on top and breathing erratically at every touch. It was slow, gentle and searching as if to prolong each kiss till every last ounce of energy and feeling was drained from them and although unspoken, both understood the meaning behind every touch.

Kurt's head felt perfectly fuzzy, thoughts loose and languid. It was all so easy. The elephant in the room, the monster in his mind that had caused him to sink inward at the thought of opening up to another had disappeared and now everything was colorful and beautiful and so breath-taking in how effortless it was.

Blaine drew a kiss out longer than all the others, his lips curling into a smile as leaned back into the pillow and blinked up at Kurt. He didn't speak for a moment; his eyes communicated enough.

When he finally took a breath to talk, his fingertips trailed at an achingly slow pace, up and under the cotton of Kurt's t-shirt. "I am going to die when you go to New York."

Laughing at Blaine's adoption of his own melodrama, Kurt rolled his eyes and dared to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "It's only a week and you can't die. I won't allow it."

"I might."

"You can't. It's forbidden," Kurt commanded, the smile evident in his voice even though his eyes were sure and sharp.

Blaine groaned, throwing his arms to the side and lying spread eagle as if shot. He closed his eyes tight and held his breath. Kurt clambered up, laughing but scowling playfully with every poke to Blaine's side. "You are an idiot. I don't date idiots, Blaine Anderson." He perched on the pillows, looking down at Blaine's lifeless frame and trying really hard not to check out how unfairly attractive he looked when he sprawled. "Blaine. I'll leave. I'm serious. You're an idiot. Ok, that's it. I'm leavi-"

"No!" Blaine spluttered, eyes flying open and laughing as he scrambled up to grab at Kurt, his hands finding Kurt's hips as he dragged him back onto the bed, giggling. "Don't you dare. No leaving. You're staying right here."

He tugged Kurt down and crawled over him, sitting astride his legs and looking down with hands resting just short of Kurt's heart.

"You won't die, Blaine. It's New York not the moon."

"I know," Blaine blinked, smile sobering as he leaned to rest on elbows propped up either side of Kurt's head. "I'll miss you though." He played with the tendrils of hair, running his fingers down Kurt's temple and pressing gently at the smooth skin there. "I may even write you a letter." Kurt smiled, wide and impossibly sweet and bit his lip to contain it for a moment. Feeling his spine tingle, Blaine shrugged. "I'm serious."

"I know," Kurt sighed out, tracing his fingers in indistinguishable patterns against the base of Blaine's skull, teasing the curls there and smirking as Blaine leaned into it. "I'd like that. For the plane?"

Blaine nodded, eyes sparkling. "It'll blow your mind. I'll have to make up for lost time."

* * *

><p>Blinking back into the study hall, Blaine couldn't help but revel in the fact that he could still feel Kurt's warmth, could still sense Kurt's fingers in his hair and hands on his skin. Warblers practice had been a wash out, classes had been dominated with thoughts of laughing against Kurt's collar bone and kissing his way up to the tiny but not insignificant scar that usually fell hidden by Kurt's many layers.<p>

Screw school work. He had a letter to write.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Kurt!" Rachel gushed, hands at her heart as she knelt at the edge of Kurt's bed. "Just think. This time in two whole days we could be sharing a cinnamon fudge sundae in Serendipity3 or even, oh my god. Kurt. Or we could visit Alice's Tea Cup. My dads told me all about it and it's supposed to be <em>the cutest <em>place."

Kurt wrinkled his nose, grinning from ear to ear. He screwed the sweater in his hand with excitement but corrected himself quickly – crinkles were not sensible when said sweater had to spend an inordinate amount of time in a suitcase.

New York was going to be incredible. Better than incredible – _magical._

"Did you bring our list?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Rachel fished in her bag and drew it out with a flourish. "Ta da! _And_," she cooed, "I color coordinated a map with possible routes so we can cram as much as we possibly can into every single second because _obviously _we shall just have to walk Shubert Alley and just _breathe. _I mean, Kurt our idols have walked those streets and tread those boards. Ahhh! I can't _wait!"_ She threw herself back on the bed, clutching her pink binder tight to her chest.

Kurt eyed her patent pumps and their close proximity to his four hundred thread count sheets but he let it go – it _was _New York after all.

"Well," Kurt began, vibrating from her infectious excitement, "I was thinking too. And maybe we could fit in a trip to the Museum of FIT?" He perched on the edge of his vanity stool, biting his lip as he watched Rachel peel herself off the duvet. She raised her eyebrow.

"Exhibition?"

Nodding with a smirk, Kurt felt his shoulders just _tighten _with pure joy. "Hats. I'm talking the most beautiful collection of couture hats I may ever have the fortune to see."

"On one condition," Rachel smiled, eyes positively glowing.

"Name it, Berry."

"We visit the Ger-"

"-shwin Theatre!" Kurt rushed, eyes wide. He laughed as Rachel squealed, clambering up all legs and skirt to throw her arms around his neck. She smelled of roses and ambition and, for a brief but wonderful moment, Kurt felt perfectly happy.

Blaine had sent him links to 'places of interest' and each email had been so filled with such _obvious _research that Kurt had closed them, heart singing.

'_I'm so jealous of you, Kurt, but I know you're going to have the most incredible time. I just hope that next time you get to visit New York, I can come too. If you'll have me. ;)_' he'd written and Kurt had thrown himself face down into his pillow and tried not to squeal with the sheer force of his happiness.

Kurt smiled, watching as Rachel slid a sparkly pink pen from the edge of her binder and began anointing the map with stars. "I never thought this day would ever come," Kurt began, screwing his nose in concern, "but you're as good as it's going to get." He presented two coat hangers: one with a deep red flared cardigan in chunky knit with a knotted leather belt and the other with a midnight blue satin jacket dotted with chrome buttons. Rachel pursed her lips as if pondering the debt crisis and didn't seem to notice the hidden insult in his words. "Which is most appropriate for Sardi's? You know," he shrugged, "just in case we should be invited by someone _fabulous?"_

She sighed dramatically, her eyes wistful. "The blue _is _definitely the most striking, I'd say. Plus, it matches your eyes."

A little dumbfounded at her insight, Kurt offered a smile. It seemed enough to pacify and please her as she beamed and went straight back to work, humming 'One Short Day' under her breath. It didn't take long before Kurt was folding clothes and offering the harmonies.

* * *

><p><strong>Two Days Later<strong>

Kurt swallowed hard, heart buzzing with excitement and a tiny twinge of trepidation. Flying in a plane, New York, National Show Choir competition and a week staying in a real-life fancy hotel were all so... intimidating, but in the most incredible way.

Blaine was a little late. The traffic was apparently terrible (_I'm on my way! I promise! Please please please please don't leave until I get there! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_) so Kurt stood, hands knotted and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"He on his way? 'Cause we're needing to leave soon, kid. Don't want to be late for check-in and that teacher of yours was sure specific on the timing. I've got that list of his practically tattooed on the inside of my eyelids by now."

"It's _important, _Dad. Although Mr Schue may have his unfortunate shortcomings, that list was necessary. There's no way he could trust everyone in Glee to turn up when they should. Puck would rock up an hour later without his bag and a tooth brush stuffed in his pocket and we are all very aware of how laid back Mercedes can be."

"Ok, ok," Burt laughed, taking a swig of his coffee, "but Blaine better get a move on 'cause I'm out of this door in ten, Kurt."

As if on cue, Kurt's heart clenched at the sight of Blaine's car pulling speedily in front of the house. He watched as Blaine jumped out, leaving the car door open and ran up the drive in a pair of trademark too-short pants and a grey knitted cardigan.

Tossing the door aside, Kurt stood, hands on hips with a mock scowl. "And what time do you call this?"

Blaine just laughed, rolling his eyes and launching himself forward into a hug with a flurry of arms and overzealous smiles. "I drove like a maniac. You'd have hated it."

"I don't want to know. In my imagination you didn't go over fifty. You know how I am about car safety."

Kurt shivered as Blaine chuckled; his breath tickled his neck and arms tightened for a second before he stepped back with a wild grin. Kurt couldn't help but swoon a little at how pink his cheeks were.

"I'm leaving in five so we don't have a lot of time."

Blaine seemed to huff out his excitement, his face sobering quickly. "Ok. I have something for you." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small cream envelope.

"Oh, Blaine."

"I promised, didn't I?" He shrugged, eyes glistening in the mid-morning sun. "But you have to promise to only read it once you're on the plane. Not now."

Kurt pressed it to his chest, throat thickening so quickly and shamelessly. It was troublesome being able to cry so easily but it was especially maddening when it was due to inexplicable happiness. "Thank you," was all he managed before Blaine was kissing him, gentle at first but then escalating quickly into clothes-grabbing-arms-around-neck kisses.

Kurt sucked in a breath, ducking his head to land on Blaine's shoulder with a short burst of nervous laughter. "My dad." He was shaking and Blaine only held tighter.

"I'll let you go but can I ask you something?" Kurt nodded, hands still tight in the knitted lapels at Blaine's chest. "Can I pick you from the airport? I want to take you for coffee to hear about your trip."

"Of course. It'll be like having a personal chaperone. I like that." He smirked, winking at Blaine's playful exasperation.

"You're imagining me in a uniform and cap right now, aren't you?"

Giggling, Kurt wrapped his arms tight around Blaine's neck and breathed in deep.

* * *

><p>"Dude, what do you mean there's no parachute?" Finn shouted over the sea of passengers bundling into their seats. Kurt winced.<p>

"I'm not with him. Mercedes, help me pretend I'm not with him."

"_Hey_," Rachel pouted.

She soon snapped out of it as she clicked her seat belt with a flourish.

Kurt found himself soaking every last drop of knowledge about flying, from the airport process to the flight itself because, who knows, there could be a lot of it in the future. It was difficult to believe that such an enormous steel bird would be able to soar through the air but, there it was.

He followed Rachel, clicking his belt together and turned to Mercedes to offer a smile. "What does it feel like when it takes off?" he asked, leaning gracefully against the headrest in his 'travel hat' (deep blue tweed with a black velvet rim).

"Kinda like a rollercoaster, only less jiggling." She wiggled her shoulders and everything _else _moved like jelly. He hid his face, giggling.

"Ok, ok. I get it." They descended into a giggling mess until Mr Schuester assumed his position at the front of their party and began to warn them of the consequences of any bad behaviour.

Puck yelled a couple of remarks about Mr Schue looking like he could be a flight attendant and how he could 'definitely rock a pair of heels' and suddenly, with a polite address by the pilot, they were off.

Kurt gripped Mercedes' hand tight and pressed his forehead to her shoulder. It wasn't scary per se but the rush was new, his stomach lurching at the unusual noises and less than encouraging distant baby cries. Rachel busied herself with a copy of Joel Grey's new book, cooing over the shiny photographs and anecdotes as the plane ascended easily and Kurt glanced over past Mike and Tina at the clouds tickling the windows.

He closed his eyes and remembered the letter in his pocket. Easing his hands free from the sleeve of Mercedes' jacket, he tugged it out and ripped the edge as carefully as he possibly could with shaking hands.

**_[GRAPHIC MISSING. See LJ link in profile]_**

He read it twice, then a third time and once again for good measure as his eyes swam hot with tears. He was shaking already but as he let the words sink in, he bit against his lip, rubbing them together because a packed airplane was _not _the ideal place to weep openly about one's boyfriend confessing his love.

Mercedes was, fortuntely, focused on chatting to Tina about their upcoming performance so Kurt swallowed, his whole body tingling and heart racing so fast that he could barely breathe.

The screaming babies, Rachel's never-ending comments about the long gone days of Broadway, the distant sound of Puck and Artie writing a rap about plane travel and the hiss of Quinn's music drowned into the background because all Kurt could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears, thrumming loud.

It truly had been the best year _ever._

* * *

><p>Math class blurred into Lit which, scarily, blurred easily into Biology. Homework was completed quickly because, if not, it would have sat on his desk, unfinished and completely unconsidered.<p>

His Blackberry was the sole focus of his attention and, regardless of how pathetic he understood his behaviour to be, Blaine remembered the songs, the movies and the way he was _supposed _to feel and knew he could laugh in their face because he felt _better_.

He was in love.

There were no words in his Dalton-standard accomplished vocabulary that felt expressive enough to correctly describe his feelings and somehow that realisation was magical enough. If words were ideal to sum up his feelings then, he decided, the feelings weren't strong enough, weren't worthy of being addressed as 'love'.

Still, Kurt hadn't mentioned his letter. There were a few reasons he'd considered: Kurt had forgotten the letter completely, he'd read it and was considering his response or he didn't feel the same way. Every single one of them made Blaine's heart stop in crippling sadness but love was a big word, a description-less word and it was understandable if Kurt was freaked out.

He hoped desperately and amongst every class, every meal and in his dreams that that wasn't the case.

Still, Kurt hadn't said a word about it.

There had, however, been many many texts and with each, Blaine found himself mooning at his phone, smiling, sighing, laughing and clutching it as if his very life depended upon it.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine. I want to kill her. With a knife. Possibly strangulation with our hotel towels. How about stuffing the Egyptian cotton sheets down her throat? Help me. She's driving me bonkers with her dramatics.<strong>

**Quinn is a woman possessed. Poor girl needs help. I'm retaining a distance. My delicate skin cannot deal with nails the length of hers.**

**Oh wow, Blaine. New York is beautiful. Can you marry a city?**

**I wish you were here. I miss you. Lots. xxxxx**

**[MMS] Me and Mercedes in a yellow cab! HOW MAGICAL IS THIS?**

**Blaine! I just saw Johnny Depp. Or it was a very VERY good look alike. Either way, it's NEW YORK! Who knows! Don't worry, you're much more handsome.**

**Rachel and I are outside Tiffany's. This is like my dream morning. If I died right now then I would be inexplicably and perfectly happy. (Only, I wish you were here to share my bagel with me) xxxx**

Guess where I am.

**No, seriously Blaine. Guess.**

**No, I'm inside the Gershwin Theatre. **

**YES! We just got out. BLAINE. I'm shaking. Blaine.**

**Ok. I'm calmer. Almost. We sang, Blaine. On the stage. On a Broadway stage. I can't see the screen for tears.**

**Sorry, I'll explain when I get home. We have to go rehearse extra hard. We're naughty for sneaking away from the hotel during 'unscheduled free time'. Oh how I love Mr Schue. NOT. xxxxxxxxxxxx**

**I got your text this morning. Good luck for your quiz. Unleash that prep school brain, Blaine Anderson. You can do it, mon ami. xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Oh my. Central Park is beautiful. I want to come here with you someday.**

**Yes. That is a promise. I could hold your hand here. All day.**

**[MMS] Rachel and I outside Sardi's. I am shaking with excitement. I'm ordering the most expensive thing on the menu and cutting into my savings. I CANNOT have the waiter think I'm a philistine. I WISH you were here. Rachel does look pretty though. Delete this message so she can never find out I said so. xxxxxxx**

**BLAINE. I JUST MET PATTI LU PONE.**

**Blaine. I need to talk to you because Rachel just keeps squealing and jumping on the sidewalk. Blaine. I met her. **

**Oh god, your parents have horrible timing. Tell them I said so. I completely understand you can't talk but BLAINE I MET PATTI LU PONE.**

**She wished Rachel and I good luck with Nationals and she shook my hand and complimented my bone structure. She said I had the makings of a fierce Broadway star but that I had to work hard and stay strong. She was wonderful, beautiful and smelled like Chanel No 5.**

**Yes, I cried. Well Rachel and I paid and got outside before bursting into tears and screaming under the moonlight. It was like a movie.**

**I miss you so much right now. I'd love to be sharing this with you. Rachel says hello and has given my cell a name (Babs) because apparently it's a member of this trip now as I'm using it so much. Why is this girl my friend? Please remind me.**

**[MSS] Pillow fight! Mercedes, Quinn and Me. Excuse the red mark on my face. Britt got a little over excited.**

**Rehearsals again. Tina and I hit 5****th**** Av and FIT. I was half tempted to steal one of the fabulous fabulous hats but unfortunately I believe there were laser beams. I don't want to risk my life, even if it was truly FABULOUS.**

**More rehearsals this evening. I hope you feel better. Take Tylenol and drink plenty. Wish I was there/you were here.**

**I can't sleep. Nervous for the performance tomorrow. Apparently, Vocal Adrenaline have that tiny girl Sunshine as their lead. We're screwed if this song doesn't work. I'm channelling my inner Patti tomorrow.**

**I will. Your text was so sweet. Thank you. I probably won't be able to text a lot tomorrow as Mr Schue's confiscating all cell phones until after the show. Tyrant in a sweater vest. I'll see you in TWO DAYS!**

**Morning, you. Off to the venue. Wish me luck **

**We didn't place : (**

**Thank you for your text. Feeling a little numb. Santana's unleashing Latina fury at the moment, text later. Thank you for what you said. You are so sweet. Have I told you that before?**

**Feeling ok now. I've had the most amazing time here, Blaine. New York feels like home and I've only been here a week. I don't think I care too much about losing because it was all too special.**

**I GET TO SEE YOU TONIGHT. We land at 11am. Meet you at the airport? **

**CAN'T WAIT! I'm wearing my long black Oxford coat with those deep purple pants you like so much. You can thank me later xxxxxxxxx**

* * *

><p>On the morning of Kurt's return to Ohio, Blaine grabbed an apple and swallowed it down, bite by bite, with the hard and desperate hope that he was overreacting.<p>

Kurt still hadn't so much as referenced the mere existence of his letter never mind its contents. They had texted constantly and affectionately from the moment Kurt had left the area till only a moment ago but still– nothing.

Blaine felt a dull ache lodged in his stomach, unmoving, since the evening of Kurt's first day in New York. Blaine locked the door behind him as he left for the airport and with the click of the lock, closed his eyes tight and hoped that there wouldn't a moment when Kurt looked at him and fumbled through an 'I like spending time with you' or something equally painful.

It was so ingrained in his very soul that he _felt _harder than most and now he was sure that he _fell _harder too. Being passionate wasn't a bad thing but Kurt was difficult to predict sometimes. They'd talked about that fact on many occasions, Blaine even admiring and appreciating Kurt's ability to surprise in the most incredible way.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

As he reached the end of the drive, a whistle rang out behind him. He turned, tossing his apple core into the trash can and blinking against the sun as Joe waved from across the street.

"Morning Blaine! Before you leave, kid, you might want to check your mail box."

Blaine frowned at Joe's blatant wink but waved back, never one to forget his polite upbringing.

He winced as the mail box creaked open – as always – and fished through a pile of, what appeared to be, bills and legal correspondence until his eyes fell on a small card. On it was a photograph of the bright lights of Times Square, the billboards vibrant against the dark sky and cars elongated into long strips of pink and white light.

He smiled – _touched_ – and turned it over to read, knowing exactly who it was from.

**_[GRAPHIC MISSING. See LJ link in profile]_**

Blaine grabbed his keys with blissfully trembling fingers and ran – no, _raced_ – for the car, heart pounding.

* * *

><p><strong>December 2016<strong>

Dear Kurt,

First of all, a quote from a pretty special movie, 'You've Got Mail'. Bear with me ;)

"**The odd thing about this form of communication is that you're more likely to talk about nothing than something. But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings"**

I had to, didn't I?

It's the truth.

I know you're rolling your eyes at me and you think I'm ridiculous but we haven't written to each other for so long and well, we always said it was a lost art. Let's not allow it to disappear altogether!

There is a point to this letter - a very important one - but just allow me the indulgence for a while.

Firstly, I love you.

I know you know this already because I tell you so often but I do, I really do. When you're sixteen and you feel lonely, scared of life and of the people around you and you're so insecure with yourself, you never can truly imagine what your life will be like. It's an enormity that you can throw around in your imagination, play with when you daydream but you very rarely place your hopes on those crazy dreams just in case they don't ever come true.

Mine did.

I used to get so frustrated with life and in the end, was just sad with it sometimes. I let everything out when I sang and I kept busy until Dalton became a place where I found happiness. Still, there was always something missing.

I used to watch my parents sometimes. My mom's eyes would be almost fond when she looked at my dad but never alive, never sparkly and full of excitement and wonder like I know mine are when I look at you. They didn't play, they're not creative, they made unnecessary sacrifices for each other without talking things through and I know that if they'd stayed honest with one another then their marriage would have been infinitely happier. They just don't communicate properly. My dad bottles up every feeling he owns, my mom skirts around them, acknowledging them briefly before her pride and conservatism swallows her up and keeps her silent.

I've always felt so different to them.

When we started writing, I was feeling so low. My dad and I weren't in a good place, I'd begun to feel a little stuck at Dalton and I'd started to see my life for what it was. I wanted something for me.

You are the best and most amazing thing that has ever happened to me.

It's like you brought me to life and filled my heart with everything I'd wished for and even the things I didn't know I dreamed of.

You're not a simple person. You're complex and fascinating and incredibly spirited and you're exactly the guy I always hoped I'd meet. If you don't agree, you tell me so. You argue with me. You pout and snap and bite back and I love you more for it.

I adore how we never fail to tell each other exactly what we feel. I know you. I still want to know more but I think I know you well now and the amazing thing is that you are also the sweetest person I know.

The way you look at me sometimes - it makes my heart ache. You're full of so much unused compassion. People have never recognised it in you so it's like you stored it up for someone who was worth it - I hope every day that I can be worthy of you.

You remember that afternoon when you asked me to come see you and the sister of one of your teachers had died and how it had made you think of your mom? I will never forget that afternoon. I knew how good we were for each other after that day because you didn't need me to indulge you or shower you with hugs and affection (even though I would have), you just needed someone to be there and to listen and somehow I knew that. I've never wanted to be exactly what someone needed so much until that afternoon. You made me _want _to be wonderful and the best person I can be.

I never feel safer than when I'm with you. You scare me sometimes but only in your passion and determination. I know that it's ok though because that's who you are - you go after what you want and even when people try to knock you down, you defy all expectation. I'm there beside you and along for the ride.

I know life has been cruel to you in the past. It has to me too but we're not the kind of people to give up. This is something we share.

We're so different too. This is what makes us spectacular.

You remember when we had that fight a couple of months back and you told me I was an 'arrogant ass'? You remember how you threw that cushion at me and stormed out of the room? You also remember how you came back in two minutes later in tears and threw yourself down on the couch and apologised? I know it's hard being turned down a lot. I know it's difficult in the business you're in but you knew I'd still be there sitting on that couch.

I could tell how frustrated you'd been getting, how annoyed you were at the world for not giving you a break but you also know that I'll always be here. You've stayed up late into the night listening to me whine about my course and how scary it is to work with children. You've given me space when I've been stressed with studying or I've questioned my choices. You tell me the truth and I've never been more grateful.

We complement each other. I know you hate when I leave dishes on the rack without putting them away. You know I want to scream when you insist on ironing our bed linens (we're going to crease them anyway!). It's ok though because I'd be worried if we didn't have flaws and if those flaws didn't annoy the other.

There are those days when I'll come back from classes and I'll walk in the door to the most wonderful smells and sounds. You'll be in the kitchen cooking or you'll be working on your new project. I love that your hours are different to mine because coming home TO you is one of the best feelings in the world. You'll smile at me and no matter how my day has been (and lately they've been pretty sucky), just seeing you makes me relax. I know you're here and you're with me and it makes me so much stronger.

I have so many special memories. Like when we went to Italy together and I got to show you all of the places I promised I would. I love that you wore your brooch. God, I was always so nervous that you'd hate it when we first met. Graduation days - both of them - were just the most emotionally draining days ever. I remember your Dad patting me on the back and I just wanted to cry, not to mention my Dad managing to smile at you in the Dalton courtyard even though you chose to wear coat tails! Hahaha, I'll never forget that. When you met my parents. You were perfect. I know you held back and adapted for them and I remember falling in love with you a hundred times over because you didn't have to, in fact you shouldn't have but you did and I know you did that for me. The way you spoke to my Dad though. You were amazing. I honestly put a lot of my Dad's change (even if it is slight) down to you and the fact he had the chance to see us together.

Guess you can't mistake how we feel about each other, huh? ;)

I don't think I'll ever forget that day when we passed Dave Karofsky in Target and you froze. It was one of those oddly fated moments. It felt like full circle and even though I know he did things that anyone would find hard to forgive, I felt sorry for him and kind of pleased for him. We are some of the lucky ones. He was an unforgiveable asshole in high school and I can't believe what he put you through but knowing you are a huge part of the reason he managed to kick his way through the pain and confusion to go some way to find a slither of peace – well, that's amazing to me. He didn't deserve anything from you but your forgiveness seemed to do something to him. I don't think I've ever been more proud or in awe of you than I was that day.

I was happy to be around to cuddle you after. Those ice cream sundaes were awesome to sooth the soul, right? : )

I remember how hard college was. I just wanted to see you every single day but it just couldn't happen and well, we did what we do best.

I'll cherish those letters because, to me, they saved what we have from the fate of so many relationships of my friends that I watched dwindle and die forever. We fought to keep ours alive and we kept connected because we wrote everything down.

Still, when we broke up so stupidly... they were the worst couple of weeks of my life. I don't think I ever told you but I wrote a letter every day to you. I know we decided it together and thought it would be for the best because GOD being apart for so long is just _difficult _but when you called that evening and told me I was an idiot and said you were too, I had to agree.

We were wrong.

The image of you running through the airport when I eventually moved to The Big Apple is something I don't think I'll ever EVER forget. Mainly because of those purple pants but hey!

I know you're getting antsy and want me to get to the point so I will ...

I always dreamed of meeting someone. Who doesn't? But to me, I wanted someone to share my life with, someone to really connect to and love. I felt so sure I could do it well even if I was totally clueless and useless back in the day (don't even say 'what do you mean 'back in the day?' because who took you out last night and bought you fancy dinner to cheer you up and who wore that shirt you like so much- even if it did end up in a heap on the floor?). I wanted that person and I found him.

Cheesy as it may be.

I hate when people say 'it'll happen when you least expect it'. That's stupid. I NEVER expected it and it kept NOT happening. I do believe in fate a little, I believe that people are meant to grow in a certain way but to say that finding you was destined or inevitable... I don't know. I think it cheapens it. I know you feel the same. When we look at all we've both been through and at such a young age, I don't think either of us thought we deserved that or that it was fate. Life is cruel and crazy and wonderful and hard but I still found you and we have each other.

We got each other out of ALL of that and to me, I don't care why it happened, I just treasure the fact it did.

After we'd been dating a while and we'd gotten comfortable, after Prom (wow. Prom. God we were so cliché and useless... we're so much better now *wink*) and New York and then our first Summer together (.ever.), I know we struggled with the distance in Senior year but we did it. Nobody believed we would. You remember Tana teasing us saying we'd be this wrinkled old married couple soon and that it made her want to be sick? (Charming as always!) People couldn't believe we stuck together for so long and proved them ALL wrong. Well, the New Directions certainly made it easy to appear the 'constant couple'. You have no IDEA how useful that relationship diagram you made me all those years back was, hahahahaha! You think I'm joking. Check my sock drawer ;)

I know we're on the same page now. We always kind of have been. I love that we want similar things from life and that's why, when I close my eyes, I only see you as the one guarantee in my future and... Well, that's pretty indescribable.

I love making you happy and you seem to have this talent for making me crazily so (just to add to your irritatingly long list of 'things Kurt is good at')... and well, I love how you have this obsession with my hair and trying out every organic product under the sun, I love how you are always awake before me and look like an angel when I still feel like death. I love your cherry pie and pumpkin torte even if they are all low cal. I love that you made our apartment beautiful even if I hate that picture (seriously it's creepy, Kurt. Please can we just take it down?). I love Christmas with you and your family. I love waking up in the middle of the night to you breathing against me. I love how you look just after sex (shut up, let me) when you're so contented and snuggly and I just about die even after all this time because nobody else gets to see you like that. That's our moment. I love when you come out of the shower and wear one of my oversized jumpers because you always say you like the way they smell but you threaten my life if I ever tell anyone that you don't look completely put together 24/7. I love how you KNOW ME. You buy me concert tickets without me even mentioning more than once that I love the band. You bought me a vintage record player, Kurt... Yes, I WILL always mention it because it blew my mind. I've ALWAYS wanted one. I bet you don't know I put on some of my old Elvis records or a bit of Roxy Music or Kenny G (he's incredible, ok?) and just lie back and think of you. I love when you get frustrated with me and you do that pouty huffy thing and you look all cat-like and irritated. I love when you bat my hand away when I try to sneak a taste of the food you're cooking. I love how we can never decide on which movie to watch but we are incredible at compromising even if we have to watch The Sound of Music for the hundredth time! I love when we have Rachel and Finn over to stay and you go batshit for a day before until everything is perfect and Finn doesn't even notice. I love your friends (even Puckerman!). I love how you get on with my friends, even if Jeff is a little eccentric and has a crazy vegan hippy fiance with purple hair. I love when I can hear you singing from the next room. I love the sound of your sewing machine as I watch TV. I love how cute you are when I'm ill and how wonderful you manage to make me feel even when all I want to do is curl up and die. I love how our apartment is filled with our memories and it's just a little bit cluttered but organised... it's like it's straight out of one of your interior design magazines. I love how you put up with my crap that I've horded over the years. Somehow – and I love this so much – our stuff matches. My old antiques and stupid random ornaments and lamps alongside your leopard skin cushions and green suede foot stools. I love how you try to pretend you're not the sappiest person alive but you are and I know it. I love when you get cranky and you bake cakes to calm yourself down because I get free cake! I love how you still wear the tightest jeans in existence. God I love them. I love when you're in one of your insatiable moods and you're the world's most epic flirt - who can resist when you bat your eyelashes? Not me. _**So**_ under the thumb. You know what? I love that too because I know it's mutual. I'd do anything for you and I know for a fact that you don't let me eat in bed or watch sports really loudly for nothing.

I just love you so much, Kurt.

I feel like I should be quoting something right now... how about another from You've Got Mail? Totally our movie.

_**Well... if I hadn't been [miserable one night and checking my emails hoping for a miracle] and you hadn't been [at McKinley feeling equally as miserable but losing hope for a miracle] and you and I had just, well... met...**_

**Me:** _I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn't have been able to wait twenty-four hours before calling you and saying, "Hey, how about... oh, how about some coffee or, you know, drinks or dinner or a movie... for as long as we both shall live?"_

Never has a truer word been spoken.

Oh god I am useless at this. I'm ridiculous, I know.

Just marry me?

Please?

Marry me.

I love you always.

Te valde amo ac semper amabo.

If you'll have me,

Blaine xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

* * *

><p><strong>TRANSLATIONS:<br>**à toi pour toujours – Yours forever (French)  
>Te valde amo ac semper amabo. – (loose translation in Italian) I love you very much and will, forever<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dear everyone who has read and followed Wild Horses,<strong>_

**There was no way I was settling for anything less than blissfully happy. When you try to write a love story, there's no other way to end it ;)**

**Also, I may have become a little teary writing this final instalment. A little ridiculous, yes, but I guess it goes to show how much I hold this story in my heart ; )**

**First and foremost, I want to say a MASSIVE thank you to rockinhamburger. Seriously. She deserves ALL the cuddles as she is the reason I wrote this story in the first place. It was her initial idea to write a Kurt/Blaine pen pal story and as soon as I asked permission to run with her discarded idea – she graciously agreed and so TA DA! : )**

**I write fic because I like to practice my writing. I'm not the world's greatest writer but I want to improve and writing these stories has taught me so much as have the people who inspire me. It's incredible practice for styles, voices, plot, development and also for writing for an audience. **

**That said, writing THIS particular story has been my favourite writing experience so far. I've adored writing every single sentence and although it may need a lot of work, (god, does it!) I am very proud of it. I am so grateful to everyone who has offered me THE nicest encouragement and sent me the SWEETEST messages.**

**I especially have LOVED the references that some of you have made to it being a little old fashioned and traditional (I guess that's the Megan influence in it). I'm also so touched by the fact that people have appreciated the characterisation. GUYS. You have no idea how much I love writing Kurt. It's just so much fun for me and I channel him like no other! It's the thing I work on the most so THANK YOU. The same with the development of their relationship. One of the main aspects of writing these two that I keep close to my heart is their REALITY. I try so vehemently NOT to delve into the whole cliché/schmaltz arena. I don't ever want to make them THAT because they are so much deeper and sweeter than that.**

**[Also...I may have to write Hummelberry. You may or may not have guessed that I am kind of obsessed with writing little scenes of them. They're my darlings so I hope you liked their little scenes. ;) Same goes with Finn/Kurt.]**

**I have had some INCREDIBLE help with this story so an enormous thank you with kisses goes to: Lucie (whenidance), Kerry (ccmskatechick), Charlotte (Chazzam), Margaret (canuckpagali), Hannah (shareitwithme), Vale (valentine_says).**

**People have asked if I'll ever write more scenes (e.g. their college letters) and my answer is, I will if I feel inspired to. As Blaine's letter makes reference to – a lot has happened with them and I MAY write some of those little scenes if I have ideas.**

**So, basically I just wanted to say thank you. I have such a love for writing and you guys have no idea how much I've loved sharing this story with you. I've ALWAYS wanted to write something like this and it'll always be special to me.**

**Lots and Love of Love and cuddles  
><strong>

**Megan xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**; )**


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